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IN   THE 


DAYS  OF  WASHINGTON 


A  STORY  OF  THE  AMERICAN  REVOLUTION 


BY 


WILLIAM  'MURRAY  GRAYDON 


THE  PENN  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 
PHILADELPHIA  MDCCCXCVI 


COPYRIGHT,  1896,  BY  THE  PENN  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 


FRANKLIN  PRINTING  COMPANY 

516-518  Minor  Street 

Philadelphia 


CONTENTS 


I  IN  WHICH  MR.  NOAH  WAXPENNY  INTRODUCES  HIM- 

SELF    5 

II  IN  WHICH  A  BRITISH  OFFICER  LOSES  A  FINE  HORSE  24 

III  IN  WHICH  NATHAN  BECOMES  A  SOLDIER 42 

IV  IN    WHICH    NATHAN'S    MILITARY    CAREER   VERY 

NEARLY  TERMINATES 62 

V  IN  WHICH  BEGINS  A  MEMORABLE  BATTLE 91 

VI  IN  WHICH  NATHAN  MEETS  AN  OLD  ENEMY    .   .   .  106 

VII  IN  WHICH  A  BUTTON  BETRAYS  ITS  OWNER  ....  117 

VIII  IN  WHICH  SIMON  GLASS  MAKES  A  VERY  STRANGE 

REMARK      135 

IX  IN  WHICH  NATHAN  TAKES  PART  IN  THE  BATTLE  OF 

WYOMING 154 

X  IN  WHICH  NATHAN  FINDS  THE  PAPERS 176 

XI  IN  WHICH  GODFREY  PLEADS  FOR  THE  CONDEMNED 

PRISONERS 190 

XII  IN  WHICH  A  MYSTERIOUS  ISLAND  PLAYS  A  PART  .    .  208 

XIII  IN  WHICH  NATHAN  MAKES  A   PERILOUS  SWIM  .    .  226 

3 


2034535 


4  CONTENTS 

CHAP.  PAGE 

XIV  IN  WHICH  NATHAN  FEIGNS  SLUMBER  TO  SAVE  His 

LIFE 244 

XV  IN  WHICH  THE  MYSTERY  is  VERY  NEARLY  EX- 

PLAINED   2(>:> 

XVI  IN  WHICH  A  PEEP  AT  THE  STATE-HOUSE  LEADS  TO 

AN  UGLY  ADVENTURE 273 

XVII  IN  WHICH  MR.  WAXPENNY  ASSERTS  THE  MAJESTY 

OF  THE  LAW  AND  THE   CURTAIN   FALLS  ....     300 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  WASHINGTON 


CHAPTER  I 

IN    WHICH     MB.    NOAH    WAXPENNY     INTRODUCES 
HIMSELF 

IT  was  an  evening  in  the  first  week  in  Feb- 
ruary, 1778.  Supper  was  over  in  the  house  of 
Cornelius  De  Vries,  which  stood  on  Green 
Street,  Philadelphia,  and  in  that  part  of  the 
town  known  as  the  Northern  Liberties.  Agatha 
De  Vries,  the  elderly  and  maiden  sister  of  Cor- 
nelius, had  washed  and  put  away  the  dishes 
and  had  gone  around  the  corner  to  gossip  with 
a  neighbor. 

The  light  shed  from  two  copper  candlesticks 
and  from  the  fire  made  the  sitting-room  look 
very  snug  and  cozy.  In  one  corner  stood  a  tall 
clock-case,  flanked  by  a  white  pine  settae  and  a 

5 


6  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

chest  of  drawers.  A  spider  legged  writing- 
desk  stood  near  the  tile  lined  fireplace,  over 
which  was  a  row  of  china  dishes — very  rare  at 
that  time.  The  floor  was  white  and  sanded, 
and  the  walls  were  hung  with  a  few  paintings 
and  colored  prints. 

Cornelius  De  Vries,  a  well-to-do  and  retired 
merchant,  occupied  a  broad-armed  chair  at  one 
side  of  the  table  that  stood  in  the  middle  of  the 
room.  He  was  a  very  stately  old  gentleman  of 
sixty,  with  a  clean-shaven  and  wrinkled  face. 
He  wore  a  wig,  black  stockings,  a  coat  and  vest 
of  broadcloth,  and  low  shoes  with  silver  buckles. 
His  features  betrayed  his  Dutch  origin,  as  did 
also  the  long-stemmed  pipe  he  was  smoking, 
and  the  glass  of  Holland  schnapps  at  his  elbow. 

At  the  opposite  side  of  the  table  sat  Nathan 
Stanbury,  a  handsome  lad,  neatly  dressed  in 
gray  homespun  and  starched  linen,  and  of  a 
size  and  strength  that  belied  his  seventeen  years. 
His  cheeks  were  ruddy  with  health,  and  his 
curly  chestnut  hair  matched  the  deep  brown  of 
his  eyes. 


NOAH    WAXPENNY    INTRODUCES    HIMSELF       7 

Nathan  was  a  student  at  the  College  of  Phil- 
adelphia, and  the  open  book  in  his  hand  was  a 
Latin  Horace.  But  he  found  it  difficult  to 
fix  his  mind  on  the  "lesson,  and  his  thoughts 
were  constantly  straying  far  from  the  printed 
pages.  Doubtless  the  wits  of  Cornelius  De 
Vries  were  wool-gathering  in  the  same  direc- 
tion, for  he  had  put  aside  the  hated  evening 
paper,  "  The  Royal  Gazette,"  and  was  dreamily 
watching  the  blue  curls  of  smoke  as  they 
puffed  upward  from  his  pipe.  Now  he  would 
frown  severely,  and  now  his  eyes  would  twinkle 
and  his  cheeks  distend  in  a  grim  sort  of  smile. 

There  was  much  for  the  loyal  people  of  the 
town  to  talk  and  think  about  at  that  time.  For 
nearly  six  months  the  British  army,  under  Gen- 
eral Howe,  had  occupied  Philadelphia  in  ease 
and  comfort,  while  at  Valley  Forge  Washing- 
ton's ragged  soldiers  were  starving  and  freezing 
in  the  wintry  weather,  their  heroic  commander 
bearing  in  dignified  silence  the  censure  and  com- 
plaint that  were  freely  vented  by  his  country- 
men. Black  and  desperate,  indeed,  seemed  the 


8  IN   THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

cause  of  the  United  American  Colonies  in  that 
winter  of  1777-78,  and  as  yet  no  light  of  cheer 
was  breaking  on  the  horizon. 

After  grappling  for  the  twentieth  time  with 
his  lesson,  Nathan  suddenly  closed  the  book 
and  tossed  it  on  the  table. 

"  I  can't  translate  Latin  to-night,  Master  De 
Vries,"  he  exclaimed.  "  It's  no  use  trying.  I 
wish  I  was  down-town.  Perhaps  a  walk  in  the 
fresh  air  will  compose  my  mind." 

The  merchant  answered  only  by  a  negative 
shake  of  the  head,  as  he  filled  and  ignited  his 
pipe  for  the  third  time. 

"Yes,  you  are  right,"  Nathan  said,  resign- 
edly. "  I  suppose  I  should  keep  indoors  as  much 
as  possible  to  avoid  suspicion,  and  I  may  be 
needed  again  shortly — " 

Rat,  tat,  tat !  Low  and  clear  rang  a  knock- 
ing on  the  panels  of  the  front  door. 

"  There !"  exclaimed  Nathan,  jumping  up  and 
running  into  the  hall.  The  opening  of  the  door 
revealed  a  short  man  standing  on  the  lower 
step ;  it  was  too  dark  to  see  his  face  plainly. 


NOAH    WAXPENNY    INTRODUCES    HIMSELF      9 

Without  a  word  be  handed  the  lad  a  slip  of 
paper,  and  then  strode  swiftly  off  down  the  street. 

Nathan  closed  and  locked  the  door,  and  hur- 
ried to  the  light  of  the  candles.  He  unfolded 
the  paper  and  read  aloud  the  following  brief 
message,  written  in  a  small  and  legible  hand : 

"  Come  to  the  Indian  Queen  at  once.  Thee 
will  find  friends  waiting  thy  trusty  services." 

The  lad's  eyes  sparkled,  and  his  cheeks  were 
flushed  with  excitement.  "Another  ride  to 
Valley  Forge,"  he  said,  eagerly.  "How  glad 
my  father  will  be  to  see  me !  And  it  is  a  night 
ride  this  time,  Master  De  Vries.  I'll  warrant 
'tis  a  matter  of  great  importance." 

"  Not  so  loud,  lad,"  cautioned  the  merchant. 
"  But  how  comes  it  the  word  was  trusted  to 
paper  ?  Did  you  know  the  messenger  ?" 

"  It  was  Pulling,  the  deaf  and  dumb  hostler 
from  the  tavern,"  Nathan  replied.  "  Doubtless 
they  have  just  heard  news,  and  could  not  spare 
time  to  seek  the  usual  messenger.  Pulling  is 
trustworthy  enough  and,  of  course,  since  he  can't 
speak — " 


10  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

"  It  was  imprudent  to  write,"  interrupted  the 
merchant,  "  but  I  dare  say  they  could  do  no 
better.  Certainly,  the  summons  is  urgent,  since 
it  calls  thee  out  at  night." 

"  Yes,  I  must  go  at  once,"  said  Nathan,  "  and 
without  so  much  as  a  change  of  clothes.  If  the 
service  is  what  I  think  it  to  be  I  will  hardly  be 
back  by  morning."  As  he  spoke,  he  abstract- 
edly dropped  the  slip  of  paper  into  the  side 
pocket  of  his  jacket,  and  moved  toward  the  hall. 

"May  the  good  God  bring  you  back  in 
safety,"  Cornelius  De  Vries  said,  earnestly.  "  I 
love  you  dearly,  lad,  even  as  I  love  your  father, 
and  I  would  not  see  you  come  to  harm.  I  have 
long  mistrusted  these  perilous  doings,  and  yet 
for  the  sake  of  the  cause — " 

"  To  save  my  oppressed  country  I  would  risk 
life  ten  times  over,"  declared  Nathan.  "  If  there 
were  no  work  for  me  to  do  here  I  should  be 
fighting  with  our  brave  soldiers.  But  there  is 
really  no  danger,  Master  De  Vries.  You  know 
how  often  I  have  been  back  and  forth." 

"  But  not  at  night,  lad." 


NOAH    WAXPENNY    INTRODUCES    HIMSELF    11 

"  So  much  the  better,  with  the  darkness  to 
shelter  me,"  replied  Nathan.  "  I  must  be  off 
now.  Good-bye,  and  don't  worry." 

He  put  on  his  cap  and  briefly  returned  the 
pressure  of  the  old  man's  hand.  A  moment 
later  the  door  had  closed  behind  him  and  he 
was  walking  rapidly  down  the  silent  street.  The 
weather  had  changed  a  day  or  two  before,  and 
there  was  a  suggestiveness  of  spring  in  the  mild, 
damp  air. 

Richard  Stanbury,  the  father  of  Nathan,  had 
come  from  England  to  America  in  1760,  at  the 
age  of  twenty-six.  He  brought  a  wife  with 
him — a  pretty  and  refined  woman — and  they 
settled  in  Philadelphia.  The  next  year  Nathan 
was  born,  and  five  years  later  his  mother  died. 
The  blow  was  a  severe  one  to  Richard  Stan- 
bury,  and,  the  Quaker  City  being  now  distaste- 
ful to  him,  he  removed  with  his  son  to  New 
England.  He  accompanied  the  Connecticut 
colony  to  the  Wyoming  Valley  in  Pennsylvania 
— which  grant  they  had  purchased  from  the 


12  IX    THE    DAYS    OF   WASHINGTOX 

Delaware  Indians — and  took  part  in  the  long 
struggle  with  the  Pennsylvania  settlers  who 
were  found  in  unjust  possession.  When  the 
warfare  finally  came  to  a  peaceful  end  he  settled 
down  to  a  life  of  farming  and  hunting  in  that 
earthly  paradise. 

Richard  Stanbury  was  a  handsome  and  re- 
fined man,  and  a  highly  educated  one.  All 
with  whom  he  came  in  contact  were  quick 
to  realize  his  superiority,  but  in  spite  of  that 
and  his  reserved  nature,  he  made  friends  readily. 
He  closely  guarded  the  secret  of  his  past,  what- 
ever it  was,  not  even  opening  the  pages  to  his 
son.  But  at  times  he  hinted  mysteriously  at  a 
great  change  that  was  likely  to  happen  in  the 
future,  and  he  took  pains  to  teach  Nathan  read- 
ing, writing,  and  history,  and  the  rules  of  gen- 
tlemanly conduct.  There  was  deep  affection 
between  father  and  son,  and  that  the  lad  did  not 
seek  to  know  the  mystery  of  the  past  was  be- 
cause he  respected  his  parent's  silence.  He 
grew  up  to  be  brave  and  strong,  generous  and 
fearless,  and  few  companions  of  his  age  could 


NOAH    WAXPENNY    INTRODUCES    HIMSELF    13 

shoot  with  such  skill  or  track  game  so  untir- 
ingly through  the  forest. 

Soon  after  the  great  struggle  for  liberty  be- 
gan, and  the  colonies  were  in  arms  to  throw  off' 
the  British  yoke,  many  of  the  settlers  of  Wyom- 
ing left  their  families  and  the  old  men  at  home 
and  inarched  away  to  join  Washington.  Rich- 
ard Staubury  went  with  them ;  he  was  Captain 
Stanbury  now,  and  commanded  a  company. 
Nathan,  young  as  he  was,  burned  to  enlist  and 
fight.  But  his  father  would  not  hear  of  tnis. 
He  had  long  ago  formed  other  plans  for  the  lad, 
and  now  the  time  for  them  was  ripe.  To  Phila- 
delphia went  Nathan,  to  attend  the  admirable 
college  that  the  Quaker  town  boasted,  and  to 
find  a  happy  home  with  Cornelius  De  Vries. 
The  expense  was  to  come  out  of  the  worthy 
merchant's  pocket.  He  had  claimed  this  right 
because  of  the  long  friendship  between  himself 
and  Richard  Stanbury,  which  dated  from  the 
latter's  arrival  in  America. 

So  Nathan  studied  hard,  a  favorite  with  mas- 
ters and  pupils,  while  the  first  two  years  of  the 


14  IN    THE    DAYS    OP    WASHINGTON 

Revolution  scored  their  triumphs  and  adverses. 
But  he  was  not  content  to  let  others  do  the 
fighting,  and  when  the  British  occupied  Phila- 
delphia, in  the  fall  of  1777,  the  lad  found  at 
last  a  chance  to  help  the  cause  of  freedom. 
Several  loyal  citizens  of  the  town  had  secret 
means  of  getting  information  about  the  plans 
of  the  British  officers.  These  men  were  friends 
of  Cornelius  De  Vries,  and  they  came  to  know 
that  his  young  lodger  was  a  plucky  and  intelli- 
gent lad,  and  one  to  be  relied  upon.  So  Nathan 
was  frequently  chosen  to  carry  messages  to  the 
camp  at  Valley  Forge,  where  he  sometimes  saw 
his  father,  and  where  he  made  the  acquaintance 
of  General  Washington  and  other  officers.  It 
was  a  very  simple  plan,  and  one  that  was  not 
likely  to  be  suspected.  The  citizens  were 
permitted  to  take  their  grain  through  the 
British  lines  to  the  grist-mill  at  Frankford, 
and  the  lad  would  ride  out  after  dinner  on 
this  errand.  While  the  grain  was  being 
ground  it  was  an  easy  matter  for  him  to 
gallop  to  and  from  the  American  camp,  then 


NOAH    WAXPENNY    INTRODUCES    HIMSELF    15 

returning  to  the  city  by  night  with  his  sacks 
of  meal. 

As  Nathan  hurried  away  from  the  Dutch 
merchant's  house  on  this  February  evening,  he 
knew  that  he  was  wanted  for  some  service  of 
more  than  ordinary  importance.  "  This  is  the 
first  time  I  have  been  sent  for  at  night,"  he  re- 
flected, "  and  I  guess  it  means  a  dash  through 
the  lines.  The  sentries  don't  allow  any  trips  to 
mill  after  dark." 

He  looked  up  to  find  himself  passing  the 
British  barracks,  which  fronted  on  Green  Street 
from  Second  to  Third,  and  had  been  built  soon 
after  Braddock's  defeat.  Howe's  army  now 
occupied  them,  and  the  red-coated  sentry  at  the 
gate  glanced  sourly  at  the  lad  in  the  gloom. 
Nathan  went  on,  carelessly  whistling  a  snatch 
of  a  tune,  and  presently  turned  down  Fourth 
Street.  A  few  yards  from  the  corner,  where 
a  narrow  bar  of  light  streamed  across  the 
pavement  from  an  open  window,  he  collided 
with  some  one  coming  from  the  opposite  way  ; 
both  came  to  a  halt. 


16  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

"  Why  don't  you  watch  where  you're  going  ?" 
brusquely  demanded  the  stranger,  who  looked 
to  be  about  Nathan's  age,  and  wore  a  new  and 
well-fitting  British  uniform. 

"  I  might  ask  you  the  same,"  Nathan  re- 
sponded pleasantly,  "  but  I  won't.  You  see 
it's  so  dark  hereabouts,  and — why,  Godfrey  ! 
I  didn't  know  you." 

"  Nathan  Stanbury  !"  cried  the  other,  in 
keenest  surprise  and  pleasure.  "  How  glad  I 
am  to  see  you  !"  He  held  out  his  hand  expect- 
ing it  to  be  taken. 

"  No ;  I  can't,"  Nathan  said  gravely.  "  I — 
I'm  sorry  to  see  you  in  those  clothes." 

"  And  I'm  proud  of  them.  So  you're  as 
much  of  a  patriot  as  ever  ?  I  thought  you 
would  turn." 

"  I'll  never  turn,"  declared  Nathan.  "  I'm 
more  of  a  patriot  than  I  was,  and  some  day  I'll 
be  a  soldier — " 

"  Hush !  don't  air  your  opinions  so  loudly 
around  here,"  cautioned  Godfrey,  in  a  good- 
natured  tone.  "  I'm  not  going  to  quarrel  with 


NOAH    WAXPENNY    INTRODUCES    HIMSELF     17 

you,  Nathan.  Two  such  old  friends  as  we  are 
can  surely  meet  without  talking  about  the  war. 
I  can't  forget  that  you  saved  my  life  once,  and 
I  will  always  be  grateful." 

"  That  sounds  well  from  a  Tory,"  interrupted 
Nathan.  "  Why  don't  you  begin  by  being 
grateful  to  your  country  ?" 

The  other  flushed,  and  for  a  few  embarrass- 
ing seconds  nothing  was  said.  Standing  to- 
gether in  the  stream  of  yellow  lamp-light,  the 
two  lads  looked  strangely  alike,  a  resemblance 
that  others  had  frequently  observed.  They 
were  of  the  same  build  and  height,  and  had 
the  same  general  features.  Godfrey  Spencer 
was  older  by  a  year,  with  black  eyes  and  hair. 
Nathan's  eyes  and  hair  were  deep  brown. 

"  You  are  still  attending  college  ?"  Godfrey 
finally  said. 

Nathaii  nodded.  "  When  did  you  come  back 
to  town  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Two  days  ago,"  Godfrey  replied,  "  with 
dispatches  for  General  Clinton.  You  know  I 
went  with  my  mother  to  Long  Island,  and  there 
2 


18  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

I  enlisted  in  a — a  Tory  regiment.  I  was  pro- 
moted to  lieutenant  a  month  ago,  and  now 
Major  Langdon,  who  is  stationed  here,  has 
•promised  me  a  place  on  his  staff."  The  last 
words  were  spoken  with  evident  pride. 

"  I'm  sorry  for  you,"  said  Nathan.  "  I  can't 
wish  you  success,  Godfrey,  but  I  truly  hope, 
for  the  sake  of  old  times,  that  you  won't  get 
shot.  I  must  go  now.  Good-bye." 

Disregarding  the  other's  appeal  to  return, 
Nathan  walked  rapidly  down  the  street,  igno- 
rant of  the  fact — as  was  Godfrey — that  a  British 
officer  had  been  watching  both  lads  closely 
from  the  open  and  lighted  window  of  the  house 
in  front  of  which  they  were  standing. 

"  Who  was  that  lad,  Spencer  ?"  he  demanded. 

"An  old  college  friend,  Major  Langdon," 
replied  Godfrey,  a  little  startled  by  the  ques- 
tion. "  His  people  are  rebels.  I  was  trying  to 
convert  him." 

"  I  mean  his  name,  stupid,  quick  I" 

"  Nathan  Stanbury,"  said  Godfrey. 

The  major's  face  turned  white,   and   some- 


NOAH    WAXPENNY   INTRODUCES    HIMSELF     19 

thing  like  an  oath  escaped  his  lips.  His  hands 
shook  as  they  rested  on  the  window-sill. 

"  I  might  have  known,"  he  muttered  to  him- 
self. Then  aloud :  "  Yonder  is  a  bit  of  paper 
the  lad  dropped  when  he  pulled  out  his  hand- 
kerchief. Fetch  it,  Spencer." 

Godfrey  reluctantly  picked  up  the  paper, 
and  Major  Langdon  opened  the  door  to  admit 
him. 

A  few  months  before  Richard  Stanbury's 
arrival  in  the  Colonies  there  came  from  England 
to  Philadelphia  a  merchant  of  London,  Matthew 
Marsham  by  name.  He  was  accompanied  by 
his  daughter,  Betty  Spencer,  and  her  infant  son 
Godfrey.  Mrs.  Spencer  wore  mourning  for  her 
husband,  who  had  died  recently.  The  merchant 
engaged  in  business,  and  prospered  sufficiently 
to  keep  his  little  family  in  comfort  and  give  his 
grandson  a  thorough  education. 

To  college  went  Godfrey  in  due  course,  and 
here  he  and  Nathan  were  classmates  for  nearly 
a  year  after  the  beginning  of  the  Revolution, 


20  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

during  which  period  they  formed  a  warm  boyish 
friendship. 

On  one  occasion,  while  swimming  in  the 
Delaware,  Nathan  risked  his  own  life  to  save 
Godfrey  from  drowning.  But  the  growing  ani- 
mosities of  the  war  finally  began  to  draw  the 
lads  apart,  for  Godfrey's  mother  and  grandfather 
were  Tories.  In  the  spring  of  1777  Matthew 
Marsham  died,  and  Mrs.  Spencer  removed  with 
her  son  to  Long  Island,  where  she  had  friends 
living. 

It  was  of  this  past  friendship — so  strongly 
recalled  to-night — more  than  of  his  errand, 
that  Nathan  was  thinking  sadly  as  he  kept  on 
his  way  down-town.  Frequently  he  crossed  the 
street  to  avoid  a  group  of  drunken  and  riotous 
soldiers,  or  put  on  a  careless  gait  and  attitude  as 
some  mounted  officer  spurred  barrackwards 
past  him.  He  met  but  few  others,  for  reputable 
citizens  kept  indoors  after  dark. 

The  Indian  Queen  tavern,  one  of  the  oldest 
and  best  known  hostelries  of  the  town,  stood  on 
South  Fourth  Street  near  Chestnut.  The  tap- 


NOAH  WAX  PENNY  INTRODUCES  HIMSELF  21 

room  was  empty  when  Nathan  entered,  and  the 
secretly  loyal  landlord,  Israel  Jenkins,  was  tak- 
ing his  ease  on  a  bench. 

"  Well,  here  I  am,"  said  Nathan.  "  Company 
in  the  back  room  again,  eh  ?" 

"  Not  this  time,  lad,"  replied  Jenkins,  with  a 
wink  of  the  eye.  "  The  back  room  is  too  open 
for  to-night's  work.  You'll  find  them — '; 

Sudden  footsteps  outside  caused  the  landlord 
to  bite  off  the  sentence  abruptly.  "  Get  your- 
self yonder,"  he  added,  "  and  wait  till  I  come. 
Quick  !  you  mustn't  be  seen." 

He  pushed  Nathan  into  a  dark  hall  on  one 
side  of  the  room,  leaving  the  door  open  several 
inches,  and  from  his  place  of  concealment  the 
lad  saw  the  new  arrival  enter  the  tavern. 

He  was  a  man  who  would  have  attracted  at- 
tention in  any  surroundings,  and  was  as  likely 
to  excite  mirth  as  respect.  His  age  was  about 
fifty,  and  his  tall,  gaunt  figure  was  dressed  in 
rusty  broadcloth,  black  stockings  without  knee 
or  shoe  buckles,  and  a  gray  cocked  hat.  He 
wore  a  flaxen  wig,  and  a  steel  watch  chain  with 


22  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

seals  dangled  from  his  waistcoat.  His  face  was 
smooth  and  of  a  parchment  color,  his  nose  abnor- 
mally large,  and  his  eyes  small  and  piggish. 
He  had  long  white  fingers,  and  he  snapped  them 
nervously  as  he  nodded  with  an  air  of  conde- 
scension to  the  landlord. 

"  Good  evening,  sir,"  he  said,  in  an  oily  voice. 
"  I  would  have  a  pot  of  your  best  brew,  and  an 
ounce  of  mild  tobacco." 

"  I  don't  sell  the  last  named,"  curtly  replied 
Jenkins,  who  was  by  no  means  favorably  im- 
pressed with  his  customer. 

"  But  you  will  let  me  have  a  little,  eh,  my  good 
friend  ?  Here  is  some,"  tapping  his  breast  pocket, 
"  but  the  sea  air  has  quite  destroyed  its  flavor." 

"  You  have  lately  crossed  then  ?"  asked  Jen- 
kins, who  was  always  on  the  alert  for  news,  and 
scented  a  present  opportunity. 

"  But  this  day  I  arrived  from  England  on  the 
packet-boat  '  Bristol,' "  replied  the  stranger, 
"  and  right  glad  was  I  to  put  foot  on  solid 
ground.  Thank  you,  my  friend,"  he  added,  as 
Jenkins  placed  before  him  a  tankard  of  ale  and 


NOAH    WAXPENNY    INTRODUCES   HIMSELF     23 

a  twist  of  tobacco.  "And  now  may  I  make  bold 
to  ask  a  little  information  of  you  ?" 

"  Depends  on  what  it  is,"  growled  Jenkins, 
his  suspicions  suddenly  awakened. 

"  It  is  nothing  harmful,  sir ;  quite  the  con- 
trary. Does  not  my  face  inspire  confidence  ? 
Then  you  shall  have  my  name.  It  is  Noah 
Waxpenny,  and  I  have  the  honor  to  be  confi- 
dential clerk  to  the  firm  of  Sharswood  &  Fee- 
man,  solicitors,  Lincoln  Inn,  London." 

"  It's  no  odds  if  you  were  the  king  himself," 
imprudently  replied  Jenkins. 

"  Ha,  very  clever !  A  neat  joke,"  laughed  Mr. 
Waxpenny.  "  God  save  King  George,  and  all 
his  loyal  subjects !" 

"Amen  to  that !"  muttered  the  landlord,  aloud. 
"And  God  forgive  the  lie,"  he  added  to  himself. 

Mr.  Noah  Waxpenny  chuckled,  and  half 
emptied  the  pewter  at  a  draught.  Then  he 
leaned  toward  Jenkins  in  a  confidential  manner, 
and  his  next  words  were  of  so  startling  a  nature 
that  Nathan  very  nearly  toppled  against  the 
door  that  separated  him  from  the  tap-room. 


CHAPTEK  II 

IN    WHICH   A     BRITISH     OFFICER     LOSES    A    FINE 
HORSE 

"  I  WISH  to  learn  the  present  whereabouts  of 
Richard  Stanbury,"  said  Mr.  Waxpenny,  slowly 
and  deliberately.  "  Under  that  name  he  came 
from  England  to  America  in  1760,  and  a  year 
later  he  was  known  to  be  residing  in  Philadel- 
phia with  a  wife  and  infant  son.  Can  you  give 
me  any  information  about  him  ?'* 

With  a  heightened  color  Jenkins  stared  first 
at  the  ceiling,  and  then  shot  a  glance  of  appre- 
hension at  the  hall  door.  "  Stanbury  ain't  a 
common  name,"  he  replied,  by  way  of  gaining 
time,  "  but  it  seems  like  I've  heard  it  some- 
wheres  or  other.  It  might'n  be  Stanwix,  now  ?" 

"  No,  Stanbury — Richard  Stanbury." 

The  landlord  propped  his  elbows  on  the 
counter  and  looked  meditatively  into  vacancy. 
"  I've  heard  of  Bow  Street  runners,"  he  said  to 
24 


A  BRITISH  OFFICER  LOSES  A  FIXE  HORSE     25 

himself,  "  and  I  misdoubt  but  this  chap  is  one 
of  the  snaky  varmints  in  disguise.  It  ain't 
likely  Dick  Staiibury  is  wanted  over  in  England, 
but  there's  no  telling.  What  am  I  going  to  do 
about  it  ?  I'll  bet  a  ha'penny  the  lad's  listening 
out  yonder  with  both  ears.  I'll  just  lie  low  till 
I  get  my  bearings — that's  the  safest  plan." 

During  the  course  of  this  mental  soliloquy  he 
was  cocking  his  head  this  way  and  that,  and 
now  he  shook  it  in  a  manner  that  indicated  pro- 
found and  hopeless  ignorance. 

"  If  a  golden  guinea  would  jog  your  memory, 
why,  here  it  is,"  suggested  Mr.  Waxpenny,  dis- 
playing the  coin. 

"The  gold  wouldn't  come  amiss,"  said  Jen- 
kins, with  a  sigh,  "  but  it  ain't  possible  for  me 
to  earn  it." 

The  law  clerk  pocketed  the  guinea.  "  It's 
unlikely  that  Richard  Stanbury  was  in  your 
walk  of  life,  my  man,"  said  he,  with  quiet  scorn. 
"  Your  ignorance  is  excusable." 

"  My  what  ?" 

"  Your    disability    to   remember,"    corrected 


26  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

Mr.  Waxpenny.  "  And  now  we'll  try  again. 
Can  you  tell  me  if  Major  Gerald  Langdon, 
of  the  British  cavalry,  is  stationed  in  this 
town?"* 

"  I  seen  by  the  '  Royal  Gazette,'  a  fortnight 
ago,  that  he  was  in  New  York,"  replied  Jen- 
kins, truthfully  enough.  "What  on  earth  is 
the  game  ?"  he  asked  himself  in  amazement. 

Mr.  Waxpenny  nodded  his  satisfaction. 
"  There  is  one  more  person  I  wish  to  inquire 
about,"  he  said.  "  Did  you  ever  hear  of — " 

The  rest  of  the  sentence  was  drowned  in  a 
burst  of  noisy  voices  and  shuffling  feet,  as  half 
a  dozen  tipsy  soldiers  and  marines  swung  round 
the  corner  and  entered  the  tavern.  The  London 
law  clerk  looked  disdainfully  at  the  company, 
and  then  made  a  hasty  exit.  Having  served 
his  customers  Jenkins  left  them  with  brimming 
mugs  in  hand,  and  darted  into  the  hall,  slam- 
ming the  door  behind  him. 

"  Where  are  you,  lad  ?"  he  whispered. 

"  Here !"  Nathan  answered,  hoarsely,  from 
the  darkness.  "I  have  heard  all,  Mr.  Jenkins. 


A  BRITISH  OFFICER  LOSES  A  FINE  HORSE     27 

What  can  it  mean  ?  Why  did  that  man  in- 
quire for  my  father  ?" 

"  I  haven't  an  idea,"  replied  the  landlord. 
"  If  he  comes  back  I'll  try  to  pump  him. 
Meanwhile,  it  won't  be  amiss  to  tell  your  father 
there's  a  London  chap  seeking  him." 

"  I'll  do  that,"  muttered  Nathan.  "  But  it's 
queer — " 

"  Don't  bother  about  it,"  whispered  Jenkins. 
"  They're  waiting  for  you  up  above — in  the 
little  room  on  the  right  at  the  head  of  the 
stairs.  You'll  see  a  light  under  the  door.  I 
must  be  off." 

The  landlord  returned  to  his  customers,  and 
Nathan  slowly  ascended  the  stairs,  still  puz- 
zling over  the  strange  inquiries  of  Mr.  Wax- 
penny.  Guided  by  the  glimmer  of  light,  he 
entered  a  small  bed-chamber — the  identical 
room,  in  fact,  in  which  Jefferson  had  written 
the  Declaration  of  Independence  two  years 
before.  Here  the  lad  found  Anthony  Benezet 
and  Timothy  Matlack,  two  elderly  and  highly 
respectable  Quaker  citizens.  A  candle,  stand- 


28  IN    THE   DAYS    OF   WASHINGTON 

ing  on  a  small  table  between  them,  dimly  revealed 
their  solemn  faces  and  sober,  gray  garments. 

"  Thee  is  late  to-night,"  said  Timothy  Mat- 
lack. 

"  I  was  detained  at  several  places,"  explained 
Nathan.  "  I  came  as  quickly  as  I  could." 

"  And  is  thee  ready  to  serve  us  as  before  ?" 

"  Ready  and  willing,  sir." 

"  This  is  a  task  of  greater  peril  and  difficulty," 
said  Anthony  Benezet.  "  We  have  tidings  for 
General  Washington  which  cannot  be  conveyed 
verbally,  and  should  reach  him  before  morn- 
ing. Here  is  the  packet,"  drawing  a  sealed 
and  folded  paper  from  his  bosom.  "  Thee  must 
slip  unseen  through  the  enemy's  lines.  It  is 
the  only  way." 

"  I  will  do  it,"  Nathan  replied  firmly.  "  There 
are  many  weak  places,  and  the  night  is  dark. 
I  am  not  afraid." 

"  Thou  art  a  brave  lad,"  said  Anthony  Bene- 
zet, "  and  God  will  protect  thee.  So,  now  hasten 
on  thy  journey.  When  thou  hast  passed  the 
sentries,  go  to  the  house  of  Abel  Sansom,  on  the 


A  BRITISH  OFFICER  LOSES  A  FINE  HORSE     29 

Germantown  Road.  He  will  give  thee  a  horse 
for  the  ride  to  Valley  Forge." 

Nathan  concealed  the  precious  packet  about 
his  clothes,  and  turned  toward  the  door. 

"Wait,"  said  Timothy  Matlack.  "Did  thee 
destroy  the  message  I  sent  thee  by  Jenkins' 
man  ?" 

"  I — I  think  I  put  it  in  my  pocket,"  faltered 
Nathan,  making  a  hasty  search.  "But  it  is  not 
here  now,  sir.  I  fear  I  have  lost  it." 

"Where,  lad?  not  on  the  street?" 

"  Yes,"  Nathan  admitted  huskily,  "  up  near 
the  barracks."  He  remembered  pulling  out  his 
handkerchief  while  talking  to  Godfrey.  The 
note  must  have  fallen  out  then,  and  he  shivered 
to  think  of  the  possible  consequences  of  the  loss. 

"What  rashness  and  folly !"  groaned  Timo- 
thy Matlack.  "  We  are  ruined,  Anthony — " 

"Do  not  blame  the  lad,"  said  his  companion. 
"  It  was  but  a  pardonable  want  of  caution.  All 
may  be  well  if  we  can  get  safely  out  of  the 
house.  Go,  Nathan — " 

Too  late !     Just  then  came  a  clatter  of  feet 


30  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

from  down-stairs,  and  a  couple  of  sharp  words 
of  command,  a  confused  tumult  arose  and  Jen- 
kins was  heard  expostulating  in  loud  and  indig- 
nant tones  in  the  tap-room.  Next  a  door  banged 
open,  and  the  lower  hall  echoed  to  the  tread  of 
booted  feet. 

For  a  few  seconds  after  the  disturbance  began 
the  occupants  of  the  little  room  stared  at  one 
another  in  dazed  terror. 

"  The  note  has  been  found,"  gasped  Timothy 
Matlack,  "  and  British  soldiers  have  come  to 
search  the  house.  We  will  all  be  hanged  !" 

"  They  must  catch  us  first,"  exclaimed  Nathan, 
extinguishing  the  candle  with  a  puff,  and  dart- 
ing to  the  window.  "  We  are  trapped,"  he 
added,  with  a  gloomy  glance  at  the  street  below. 
"  Two  grenadiers  are  on  the  pavement." 

"  Thee  may  get  out  by  the  rear  of  the  house," 
hoarsely  replied  Anthony  Benezet.  "  Those 
papers  will  be  our  death-warrant  if  the  enemy 
take  them.  Thee  must  escape,  lad — thee  must. 
Quick !  there  is  not  an  instant  to  lose." 

"  But  you  ?"  demurred  Nathan. 


A  BRITISH  OFFICER  LOSES  A  FINE  HORSE     31 

"  Friend  Matlack  and  myself  will  remain 
quietly  here,"  replied  the  old  Quaker.  "  The 
note  can  but  cause  suspicion.  There  will  be  no 
proof  against  us,  with  thee  out  of  the  way. 
Here,  take  this.  I  had  forgotten  to  give  it  to 
thee.  Use  it  only  in  self-defense."  In  the 
darkness  he  pressed  a  heavy,  brass-barreled 
pistol  into  the  lad's  hands. 

"  I  will  do  my  best,"  muttered  Nathan.  "  If 
I  am  shot  tell  my  father — "  A  lump  rose  in 
his  throat,  and  without  finishing  the  sentence  he 
opened  the  door  and  stepped  into  the  hall.  For- 
tunately the  invading  party  had  halted  below 
while  Jenkins  tardily  fetched  them  a  light,  and 
now  they  were  but  two-thirds  the  distance  up  the 
staircase.  In  the  front  was  a  stern  and  hand- 
some officer,  with  a  naked  sword  in  one  hand 
and  a  glass  lantern  held  high  in  the  other. 
The  flashing  light  shone  behind  him  on  the  red 
coats  and  fierce  countenances  of  half  a  dozen 
grenadiers. 

Nathan  saw  all  this  at  a  brief  glance,  and 
recognized,  with  a  thrill  of  anger,  the  face  of 


32  IN    THE    DAYS    OF   WASHINGTON 

Godfrey  Spencer  among  his  foes.  He  was  him- 
self instantly  discovered  as  he  turned  and  sped 
along  the  hall. 

"  Halt,  in  the  King's  name !"  roared  the  offi- 
cer. "  Halt  or  die  !" 

On  dashed  Nathan,  his  heart  thumping  with 
terror  as  the  din  and  clatter  of  pursuit  rang  be- 
hind him.  He  knew  all  about  the  house  and 
its  surroundings,  and  a  dozen  strides  brought 
him  to  an  angle  of  the  hall.  He  slipped  round 
the  corner,  and  dimly  saw,  twenty  feet  ahead,  a 
small  window  that  opened  from  the  rear  of  the 
house. 

He  was  but  half  way  to  it  when  a  bright  light 
streamed  over  him,  and  glancing  backward  he 
saw  the  officer  turn  the  angle  at  the  head  of  his 
men.  Eager  shouts  told  that  they  believed  their 
victim  to  be  trapped. 

It  was  a  terrible  crisis  for  the  lad.  Either 
he  must  check  the  enemy  or  abandon  hope  of 
escape,  and  he  realized  this  in  the  flash  of  a 
second.  He  halted,  faced  about,  and  took  quick 
aim  with  his  pistol. 


A  BRITISH  OFFICER  LOSES  A  FIXE  HORSE     33 

"  Look  out,  Major  Laiigdon,"  cried  a  warning 
voice.  "  He's  going  to  shoot." 

Bang !  The  thunderous  report  shook  the 
building.  The  shattered  lantern  crashed  to  the 
floor,  followed  by  total  darkness,  a  yell  of  pain, 
and  a  volley  of  curses  and  threats. 

Amid  the  drifting  smoke  Nathan  darted  oil 
to  the  window,  threw  up  the  sash,  and  let  it  fall 
with  a  clatter  as  he  vaulted  safely  down  upon 
the  low  roof  of  a  shed. 

He  was  just  in  time.  Crack!  crack!  crack! 
— bullets  whistled  overhead,  and  broken  glass 
and  splinters  showered  about  him  as  he  half 
tumbled,  half  climbed  to  the  ground.  In  a 
trice  he  was  through  the  stable-yard  and  over  a 
wall  into  Third  Street,  across  that  deserted 
thoroughfare,  and  speeding  through  a  dark  and 
narrow  lane  in  the  direction  of  the  Delaware 
River. 

There  was  dull  shouting  and  outcry  behind 
Nathan  as  he  ran  on,  still  clutching  the  empty 
pistol,  and  keeping  a  keen  watch  right  and  left ; 
but  he  heard  no  close  pursuit,  and  there  were 

a 


34  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

no  dwelling-houses  on  the  lane  to  imperil  his 
present  safety. 

"  I'm  going  the  wrong  way,"  he  said  to  him- 
self, "  but  I  daren't  turn  now.  I  hope  I  didn't 
kill  that  British  officer — I  never  shot  at  any  one 
before,  and  I  hated  to  do  it.  One  of  the  sol- 
diers called  him  Major  Langdon — why,  that's 
the  man  who  is  going  to  put  Godfrey  on  his 
staff,  and  the  same  that  the  London  law  clerk 
was  inquiring  about.  Well,  if  I  killed  him  I'm 
not  to  blame.  It  was  in  self-defense,  and  for  my 
country's  sake.  If  I'm  caught  they'll  surely 
hang  me — but  I'm  not  going  to  be  caught. 
These  dispatches,"  feeling  to  make  sure  he  had 
the  precious  packet,  "  must  be  saved  from  the 
enemy,  and  it  won't  be  my  fault  if  I  don't  de- 
liver them  at  Valley  Forge  before  morning." 

The  plucky  lad  had  now  reached  Second 
Street,  and  finding  no  one  in  sight,  he  turned 
up-town  on  a  rapid  walk.  He  had  passed 
Market  Street  and  was  near  Arch  when  he 
heard  faint  shouts,  and  looking  back  he  saw  a 
group  of  dark  figures  in  pursuit. 


A  BRITISH  OFFICER  LOSES  A  FINE  HORSE     35 

"  They've  tracked  me  clear  from  the  tavern," 
he  muttered,  "  and  it  won't  be  easy  to  give 
them  the  slip." 

He  began  to  run  now,  with  the  hue  and  cry 
swelling  behind  him.  He  did  not  dare  to  turn 
into  Arch  Street,  seeing  people  moving  here 
and  there  in  both  directions ;  so  he  continued 
up  Second,  slinking  along  in  the  shadow  of  the 
houses. 

From  a  doorstep  across  the  way  some  one 
shouted,  and  the  human  blood-hounds  down  the 
street  caught  up  the  cry  with  hoarse  energy.  The 
rush  of  many  feet  rang  on  the  night  air,  and 
the  tumult  was  rapidly  spreading  to  the  more 
remote  quarters  of  the  town. 

Nathan  ran  doggedly  and  swiftly  on,  looking 
in  vain  for  a  place  of  hiding,  and  knowing  that 
the  occasional  lamp-posts  he  passed  revealed  his 
flying  form  to  the  enemy.  Above  Race  Street 
a  sour-visaged  man — evidently  a  Tory  citizen — 
leapt  forward  from  £>ne  side  with  a  demand  to 
stop.  "  Get  out  of  the  way,"  the  lad  mut- 
tered fiercely,  aiming  his  empty  weapon.  The 


36  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

coward  fell  back  with  lusty  shouting,  which 
was  heard  and  understood  by  the  approaching 
soldiers. 

Breathless  and  panting,  Nathan  turned  west 
into  Vine  Street.  With  flagging  strength  and 
courage  he  kept  on  in  his  flight,  realizing  that 
unless  some  unforeseen  help  intervened  he  must 
soon  be  caught.  Louder  and  nearer  rang  the 
roar  of  the  pursuit,  and  a  glance  behind  showed 
him  the  eager  mob,  led  by  red-coated  grena- 
diers, within  a  hundred  yards. 

With  a  desperate  spurt  the  lad  pushed  on. 
Up  the  street  beyond  him  he  heard  cries  and 
.saw  people  running  excitedly.  "  It's  no  use  ; 
I'm  trapped,"  he  muttered,  and  just  then  he 
made  a  discovery  that  sent  a  thrill  of  hope  to 
his  heart. 

On  Vine  Street,  a  few  yards  from  Cable  Lane, 
was  the  house  of  Mr.  Whitehead.  Here  Col- 
onel Abercrombie  was  quartered,  and  a  horse 
belonging  to  that  ofticer,  or  to  a  visitor  of  rank, 
was  standing  before  the  door  in  care  of  a  small 
boy.  It  was  a  large  and  handsome  bay,  and 


A  BRITISH  OFFICER  LOSES  A  FINE  HORSE     37 

from  each  saddle-bag  peeped  the  shiny  butt  of 
a  pistol. 

"  What's  the  fuss  about  ?"  asked  the  small 
boy — who  was  Mr.  Whitehead's  son  Jonas — as 
the  fugitive  pulled  up  breathlessly  in  front  of 
him.  "  All  that  mob  ain't  chasing  you,  are 
they  ?  Did  you  steal  something  ?" 

"  No,  but  I'm  going  to,"  panted  Nathan,  with 
make-believe  ferocity.  He  lifted  the  empty 
pistol.  "  Give  me  that  horse.  Don't  make  a 
whimper.  I'll  shoot  you." 

Terrified  by  the  threat  and  weapon,  Jonas  let 
go  the  bridle  and  fled  to  the  pavement.  Nathan 
swung  himself  into  the  saddle,  clapped  feet  in 
the  stirrups,  and  gave  the  bridle  a  tug  that 
swung  the  horse  around  and  started  it  across 
the  street.  The  rush  and  roar  of  the  pursuers 
rang  in  his  ears,  blending  with  a  shrill  cry  from 
Jonas.  He  heard  the  house  door  fly  open,  and 
the  voices  of  Colonel  Abercrombie  and  other 
officers  raised  in  a  profane  howl.  Then  he  was 
clattering  madly  up  the  dark  roadway  of  Cable 
Lane,  with  the  din  and  tumult  ebbing  fainter 
and  fainter  behind  him. 


38  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

On  his  stolen  steed  the  lad  cleared  street  after 
street  at  a  gallop,  making  turns  here  and  there, 
but  trending  mainly  in  the  direction  he  wanted 
to  go.  Men  and  women  in  night-caps  flung 
shutters  open  to  look  out,  and  called  to  people 
in  the  street  as  he  whirled  by.  He  had  thrown 
his  empty  pistol  away,  and  had  taken  from  the 
holster  a  fresh  one,  which  he  held  ready  for  use 
in  his  left  hand. 

Soon  vacant  lots  began  to  take  the  place  of 
houses,  and  lighted  windows  and  startled  citi- 
zens were  seen  less  frequently.  Nathan  ven- 
tured to  check  his  horse  and  listen.  Far  behind 
he  heard  the  dull  pounding  of  hoofs,  telling 
him  that  some  of  his  pursuers  had  found  mounts 
and  were  on  the  track  again.  With  a  glance 
around  to  get  his  bearings  he  pushed  on  at  a 
rapid  trot  to  the  open  country,  thinking  this 
gait  more  proper  for  the  half-formed  plan  he 
had  against  the  coming  and  unavoidable  emer- 
gency. He  knew  the  locality,  but  not  so  well 
as  he  could  have  desired. 

"The  lines  are  some  place  about  here,"  he 
muttered  half  aloud,  "  what  shall  I  do  ?  Trust 


A  BRITISH  OFFICER  LOSES  A  FINE  HORSE     39 

to  a  dash  to  take  me  through,  or  abandon  the 
horse  and  try  it  on  foot?  I  must  decide  before 
the  pickets — " 

"  Halt !  who  comes  ?"  The  gruff  command 
rang  out  from  ten  feet  ahead,  where  a  shadowy 
form  had  suddenly  risen  from  the  darkness  of 
the  open  field. 

"  Friend !"  called  Nathan,  and  with  that  he 
drove  the  stirrups  so  hard  that  his  horse  bounded 
forward  on  a  gallop  —  straight  for  the  dum- 
founded  sentinel.  There  was  a  futile  shot  in  air, 
a  yell  of  pain,  and  then  the  Britisher  was  down 
under  the  cruel  hoofs. 

Nathan  and  his  galloping  steed  swept  on, 
while  behind  them  the  night  blazed  with  red 
flashes,  and  echoed  to  musket  shots,  oaths,  and 
scurrying  feet. 

"  Safe  at  last !"  the  lad  cried  exultantly,  and 
even  as  he  spoke  a  jangle  of  equipments  and  a 
patter  of  hoofs  on  /the  turf  gave  the  lie  to  his 
words.  He  had  stumbled  not  on  one  or  two 
pickets,  but  on  a  dismounted  patroling  party 
watching  for  deserters,  who  had  been  stepping 


40  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

off  rather  frequently  of  late  through  this  weak 
part  of  the  lines  —  mostly  Hessians  who  had 
taken  a  fancy  to  the  country. 

Nathan  did  not  lose  heart,  black  as  his 
chances  seemed.  He  urged  his  horse  to  its  top 
speed,  and  the  nohle  animal  did  gallantly.  For 
five  minutes  the  chase  thundered  on,  the  enemy 
slowly  but  surely  gaining.  A  glance  showed 
the  lad  that  his  pursuers  were  less  than  two 
hundred  yards  behind,  and  when  he  looked  for- 
ward again  it  was  to  see  the  river  Schuylkill 
looming  dark  and'  quiet  under  the  canopy  of 
stars. 

No  time  to  hesitate.  Over  and  down  the  bluff 
plunged  horse  and  rider,  their  disappearance 
being  the  signal  for  a  rain  of  bullets.  Splash  ! 
splash !  they  were  in  the  water  now,  and  the 
gallant  steed  was  breasting  waves  and  current 
and  slush  ice  as  he  swam  toward  the  opposite 
bank  and  safety,  with  the  lad  out  of  the  saddle 
and  clinging  to  the  flowing  mane. 

Now  they  were  at  mid-stream — the  river  was 
narrower — and  from  the  rear  bank  the  halted 


A  BRITISH  OFFICER  LOSES  A  FINE  HORSE     41 

dragoons  opened  fire.  Crack,  crack,  crack ! — 
the  balls  whistled  and  sputtered  harmlessly.  It 
was  too  dark  for  good  aim,  and  there  was  little 
in  sight  to  aim  at. 

But  keen  eyes  spied  a  boat  moored  in  the 
bushes,  and  two  soldiers  were  quickly  in  it  and 
paddling  after  the  fugitive.  They  were  gaining 
rapidly,  as  Nathan  saw  by  turning  his  head. 
Clinging  to  the  horse's  mane  with  one  hand  he 
snapped  the  pistol  that  he  still  held  in  the  other. 
It  was  wet,  and  would  not  go  off.  He  snatched 
the  second  from  the  unsubmerged  saddle-bag, 
aimed  and  fired.  With  the  report,  the  soldier 
who  was  paddling  tossed  up  his  arms  and  fell 
back  with  a  hoarse  cry.  His  comrade  rose  to 
his  feet  in  the  swaying  boat,  now  but  six  yards 
away,  and  leveled  his  musket  with  a  terrible 
oath. 

Flash !  bang !  the  gallant  horse  quivered, 
whinnied  with  pain,  and  swung  helplessly 
around  with  the  current.  Nathan's  hand  let  go 
the  bridle,  and  the  black  waters  closed  over  the 
lad's  head. 


CHAPTEK  III 

IN   WHICH   NATHAN    BECOMES   A   SOLDIER 

NATHAN'S  sudden  disappearance  indicated 
that  the  bullet  had  struck  him  also,  but  such  was 
not  the  case.  He  knew  the  horse  was  shot  the 
instant  the  report  rang  out,  and  his  object  in  bob- 
bing under  was  twofold ;  to  escape  the  animal's 
struggles  and  to  deceive  the  soldier.  Letting 
himself  sink  a  few  feet,  he  dived  still  deeper, 
and  then  swam  beneath  the  surface  toward 
shore.  In  spite  of  his  clothes  he  covered  a 
good  distance,  and  when  lack  of  breath  forced 
him  to  the  top  he  was  within  ten  yards  of  the 
bank. 

The  watchful  and  suspecting  dragoon  spied 
the  lad  at  once,  and  announced  his  discovery  to 
the  rest  of  the  party  by  a  shout,  as  he  picked 
up  the  paddle  and  drove  the  boat  nearer.  On 
coming  within  the  same  range  as  before  he 
snatched  the  musket  from  his  dead  or  dying 
42 


NATHAN    BECOMES    A    SOLDIER  43 

comrade,  and  again  drew  a  bead  on  his  intended 
victim. 

Just  at  this  point,  when  he  was  nearly  to  the 
shore,  Nathan  looked  back  and  saw  his  danger. 
He  was  all  but  exhausted,  and  he  knew  that  he 
had  not  a  ghost  of  a  chance  to  escape.  He  was 
too  weak  even  to  dive,  and  for  a  terrible  second 
or  two,  while  his  enemy  made  sure  of  his  aim,  he 
expected  instant  death  as  he  struggled  feebly  on. 

But  an  undreamed  of  deliverance  was  at 
hand.  From  the  near-by  edge  of  the  bank,  in 
front  of  the  lad,  came  a  flash  and  a  report.  He 
glanced  in  bewilderment  over  his  shoulder  in 
time  to  see  the  murderous  dragoon  drop  his  un- 
fired  weapon  and  pitch  head  first  into  the  water. 
The  body  sank  at  once,  and  the  boat  drifted  on 
in  pursuit  of  the  dead  horse. 

Nathan  swam  to  shore,  scarcely  able  to  credit 
his  good  fortune,  and  no  sooner  had  he  planted 
his  trembling  feet  on  the  bank  than  a  stalwart 
figure  rose  before  him  out  of  the  gloom — a  Hes- 
sian with  bristling  mustache,  a  blue  and  yellow 
uniform,  and  a  brass  plate  on  his  tall,  black  cap. 


44  IN   THE    BAYS    OF   WASHINGTON 

He  uttered  a  few  angry  words  in  German  as  he 
stared  at  the  lad. 

"You  saved  my  life,"  said  Nathan,  who  was 
quick  to  see  how  the  land  lay,  "  and  I  thank 
you  for  it." 

"  Oeh,  I  mean  not  to,"  the  Hessian  replied, 
in  broken  English.  "  I  think  you  vas  a  com- 
rade whom  I  watch  for.  You  are  American, 
eh  ?  And  you  escape  from  the  'British  ?" 

"  Yes,"  boldly  admitted  Nathan. 

The  Hessian  hesitated  a  moment.  "  You 
come  mit  me,"  he  said.  "  This  no  safe  place  to 
stay." 

Nathan  was  of  the  same  mind,  and  he  fol- 
lowed his  companion  up  the  bank  and  then  into 
the  woods,  while  the  angry  voices  of  the  British 
dragoons  grew  faint  in  the  rear.  As  they  went 
along  the  Hessian  explained  that  he  had  de- 
serted that  evening,  and  was  to  have  been  joined 
by  another  man  from  his  company.  He  had 
taken  Nathan  to  be  that  expected  comrade.  "  I 
will  look  for  Hans  no  longer,"  he  added.  "  He 
may  be  dead  or  captured." 


NATHAN    BECOMES    A    SOLDIER  45 

"  Why  did  you  run  away  ?"  asked  Nathan, 
who  had  a  thorough  contempt  for  a  deserter. 

The  Hessian  was  not  angered  by  the  question. 

"  Vy  should  I  not?"  he  replied.  "  I  haf  no 
quarrel  mit  the  colonists,  and  I  like  not  to  fight 
mit  King  Shorge  for  hire.  In  my  native 
Anspach  I  get  leedle  pay  und  poor  foot.  I  like 
America,  and  I  alretty  spike  the  language.  Ach, 
is  it  not  so  ?" 

"  Yes,  you'll  do,"  assented  Nathan. 

"  I  spike  it  better  soon,"  the  Hessian  added. 
"And  now  vere  you  go  ?" 

"  To  the  American  lines,"  Nathan  answered. 
"  I'll  take  you  there  if  you  wish." 

"  Nein,  nein,"  the  man  replied;  shaking  his 
head  vigorously.  "  Your  general  vill  make  me 
fight,  und  I  haf  enough  of  it.  You  go  your  vay 
und  I  go  mit  mine.'' 

He  was  plainly  unwilling  to  disclose  his  plans, 
and  the  lad  did  not  care  to  press  him.  So,  with 
a  hearty  hand-shake,  they  separated,  the  de- 
serter striding  off  toward  the  west,  while  Na- 
than turned  northward. 


46  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

To  reach  the  Germantown  Road  from  the 
lad's  present  location  would  have  meant  a  re- 
crossing  of  the  Schuylkill  and  a  long  detour  out 
of  his  nearest  course — a  plan  not  to  be  contem- 
plated for  a  moment.  After  parting  from  the 
Hessian  he  squeezed  the  water-out  of  his  clothes, 
dried  the  dispatches  as  much  as  he  could,  and 
then  tramped  for  half  an  hour  through  the  dark 
woods  and  open  fields.  Coming  to  a  road  that 
he  recognized,  he  pushed  on  more  rapidly,  and 
was  soon  knocking  at  the  door  of  a  loyal  farm- 
house. Down  came  the  proprietor,  nightcap  on 
head  and  gun  in  hand,  and  on  learning  what 
was  wanted  he  willingly  loaned  the  lad  his  old 
mare  and  a  pistol,  on  condition  that  both  should 
be  returned  within  a  day  or  two. 

Nathan  mounted  in  haste  and  rode  oft*.  Mile 
after  mile  slipped  from  under  the  flying  hoofs 
and  no  enemy  barred  the  way.  As  dawn  was 
breaking  a  gruff  voice  challenged  him,  and 
he  knew  he  had  reached  the  outer  picket  lines 
at  Valley  Forge. 

The  lad  was  known  by  name  and  reputation, 


NATHAN    BECOMES    A    SOLDIER  47 

and  after  a  short  wait  lie  was  taken  in  charge 
by  an  officer  and  conducted  tli rough  the  camp. 
There  was  much  of  interest  to  be  seen.  The 
narrow  streets  were  waking  up  to  the  day's 
activity,  and  ragged  and  starved-looking  men 
were  issuing  from  the  little  huts.  Some  were 
building  fires  and  others  carrying  wood.  Night 
pickets,  just  released  from  duty,  were  stumbling 
sleepily  toward  their  quarters.  Wan  and  hol- 
low faces  peeped  from  the  windows  of  the  hos- 
pitals, and  here  and  there  a  one-legged  soldier 
hobbled  along  on  crutches. 

Nathan  and  the  officer  presently  reached  the 
angle  formed  by  the  junction  of  the  Schuylkill 
River  and  Valley  Creek,  where  stood  the  large 
stone  house  that  served  for  headquarters.  The 
sentries  passed  them  through  the  yard,  and 
thence  into  the  dining-room  of  the  house.  Here, 
early  as  was  the  hour,  the  American  commander 
sat  at  breakfast.  With  him  were  two  of  his 
officers — Baron  Steuben  and  General  Knox. 

"A  messenger  for  you,  General,"  said  the 
lad's  companion,  Lieutenant  Wills.  "  He  left 


48  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

Philadelphia  last  night  and  had  the  hardest 
kind  of  a  time  to  get  through.  I  thought  you 
had  better  see  him  at  once." 

With  this  the  lieutenant  left  the  room,  and 
Washington  drew  his  chair  a  little  out  from  the 
table.  His  grave  and  somewhat  haggard  face 
lit  up  with  a  smile  of  welcome  as  lie  looked  at 
Nathan. 

"So  you  are  here  again,  Master  Stanbury," 
he  said,  "  and  what  do  you  bring  me  this  time  ?" 

"  Dispatches  from  Anthony  Benezet,  sir," 
replied  Nathan,  drawing  the  precious  packet 
from  his  bosom. 

Washington  opened  the  documents,  and  read 
them  slowly  and  attentively.  Then  with  a  few 
eager  and  low-spoken  words,  he  handed  them 
to  his  companions.  They  perused  them  in  turn, 
and  seemed  impressed  by  the  contents. 

"Most  satisfactory  indeed  !"  commented  Baron 
Steuben. 

"And  highly  important,"  added  General 
Knox.  "  But  the  papers  have  been  wet." 

"  Yes,  I  observed  that  they  were  damp,"  said 


NATHAN    BECOMES    A    SOLDIER  49 

Washington.  "  How  do  you  account  for  that, 
Master  Staubury  ?  Why,  my  lad,  you  have  surely 
been  wet  yourself!  Am  I  not  right?" 

"  You  are  right,  sir,"  replied  Nathan  ;  and  in 
a  modest  way  he  went  on  to  tell  of  his  experi- 
ences. But  Washington  and  his  companions, 
perceiving  that  more  lay  beneath  the  surface, 
asked  question  after  question.  Thus,  by  degrees, 
the  whole  of  the  lad's  storv  was  drawn  from 

tt 

him,  and  his  hearers  learned  in  detail  of  the 
thrilling  fight  at  the  Indian  Queen  and  the  sub- 
sequent perilous  escape  from  the  town. 

Washington's  look  was  more  eloquent  than 
words,  and  he  impulsively  clasped  Nathan's 
hand.  "  My  brave  lad  !"  he  exclaimed,  "  I  am 
proud  of  you.  Thank  God  that  you  came 
safely  through  such  terrible  dangers !  I  have 
not  in  my  army  a  man  who  could  have  done 
better." 

"  Not  one,  General !"  assented  Baron  Steuben. 
"  There  is  not  one  with  a  shrewder  head  and  a 
pluckier  heart." 

"The  lad  is  a  hero,"  cried  General  Knox. 
4 


50  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

"I  predict  that  he  will  be  heard  of  in  the 
future." 

Nathan  blushed  at  these  outspoken  tributes 
of  praise.  He  had  never  known  such  a  happy 
moment,  and  he  felt  more  than  repaid  for  all  he 
had  suffered. 

"My  lad,"  said  Washington,  "I  thank  you 
in  the  name  of  the  country.  You  have  per- 
formed a  great  service,  and  the  safe-keeping  of 
these  dispatches  means  more  than  you  can  un- 
derstand. Had  they  been  captured  by  the 
enemy,  many  lives  must  have  been  forfeited. 
And  what  will  you  do  now  ?  You  dare  not  re- 
turn to  Philadelphia  at  present." 

"  Sir,  I  wish  to  be  a  soldier,"  Nathan  an- 
swered. "  That  is  my  desire  above  all  things. 
But  my  father  will  not  permit  me  to  enlist." 

"  You  will  make  a  good  soldier,"  declared 
Washington,  after  a  thoughtful  pause.  "  No 
doubt  an  officer  in  time.  We  have  need  of 
such  recruits."  He  summoned  an  aid  from  the 
adjoining  room,  and  said  to  him  :  "  Tell  Captain 
Stanbury  that  I  wish  to  see  him  at  once." 


NATHAX    BECOMES    A    SOLDIER  5L 

The  man  departed  on  his  errand,  and,  during 
the  interval  of  waiting,  Nathan  was  made  to  sit 
down  at  the  table,  and  satisfy  his  keen  hunger 
on  the  breakfast  prepared  for  Washington  and 
his  guests.  Nathan's  father  presently  arrived 
— a  big,  handsome  man,  bronzed  and  bearded. 
He  warmly  embraced  the  lad,  and  listened  with 
mingled  pride  and  alarm  to  the  narrative  of  his 
adventurous  journey. 

"  You  have  a  noble  son,  Captain  Stanbury," 
said  Washington.  "  One  that  you  may  well  be 
proud  of.  He  tells  me  that  his  dearest  wish  is 
to  serve  his  country  in  the  field." 

Nathan  fairly  trembled  with  eagerness  and 
suspense,  and  his  father  looked  soberly  at  the 
floor,  evidently  at  a  loss  for  a  reply. 

"  Sir,"  he  said,  finally,  "  this  is  a  hard  thing 
you  ask.  The  lad  is  young,  and  his  education 
is  still  unfinished.  And  he  is  all  I  have  in  the 
world." 

"  He  has  proved  himself  a  man  in  discretion 
and  bravery,"  replied  Washington.  "  After  the 
events  of  last  night  it  will  not  be  safe  for  him 


52  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

to  return  to  Philadelphia  at  present.  And  his 
country  needs  him — " 

"  His  country  shall  have  him,  sir,"  cried 
Captain  Stanbury.  "  Take  the  boy  !  I  can  no 
longer  withhold  my  consent." 

So  the  question  was  settled  to  Nathan's  satis- 
faction and  delight,  and  in  all  the  camp  that 
morning  there  was  no  heart  so  light  and  happy 
as  his.  That  he  had  attained  his  dearest  and 
long-wished-for  ambition  seemed  almost  too 
good  to  be  true,  and  it  is  to  be  feared  that  he 
felt  but  slight  regrets  at  leaving  his  studies  and 
the  protecting  care  and  home  of  Cornelius  De 
Vries. 

He  *did  not  find  an  opportunity  to  tell  his 
father  of  the  mysterious  visit  of  Mr.  Noah 
Waxpenny  to  the  Indian  Queen,  for  Captain 
Stanbury  and  a  small  force  of  soldiers  speedily 
and  secretly  left  camp  in  the  direction  of  Phila- 
delphia, no  doubt  on  account  of  the  dispatches 
received  from  Anthony  Benezet.  And  they 
took  with  them  the  mare  and  pistols  borrowed 
from  the  loyal  farmer. 


NATHAN    BECOMES   A   SOLDIER  53 

That  same  morning  Nathan  was  mustered 
as  a  private  into  his  father's  company  of  Wyo- 
ming men,  most  of  whom  were  neighbors  he 
had  known  up  at  his  old  home  on  the  Sus- 
quehanna,  and  which  belonged  to  General 
Mifflin's  division  of  the  Pennsylvania  troops. 
A  supply  of  powder  and  ball  and  a  musket 
were  given  to  him ;  but  he  retained  his  own 
clothes,  for  uniforms  were  few  and  far  ^between 
in  the  American  army  at  that  time.  Having 
thus  become  a  full-fledged  soldier  the  exhausted 
lad  went  to  bed  in  the  hut  assigned  to  him,  and 
slept  under  blankets  all  the  afternoon  and 
through  the  following  night. 

On  turning  out  in  the  morning,  hungry  and 
refreshed,  Nathan  found  a  sad  and  shocking 
piece  of  news  awaiting  him.  Briefly,  it  was  as 
follows : 

Late  on  the  previous  afternoon  Captain  Stan- 
bury's  little  force  met  and  attacked,  midway 
between  Valley  Forge  and  Philadelphia,  a  for- 
aging party  of  British  soldiers  in  charge  of  two 
wagon-loads  of  provisions.  In  the  fight  that 


54  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

ensued  the  enemy  were  driven  off  with  severe 
losses,  and  the  supplies  fell  into  the  hands  of 
the  Americans.  Only  two  of  the  latter  were 
killed,  and  Captain  Stanbury  was  shot  in  the 
groin.  His  men  had  brought  him  back  during 
the  night,  and  he  was  now  lying  in  the  hospital. 

Thither  Nathan  posted  in  haste,  only  to  learn 
from  the  attendants  that  his  father  was  too  ill  to 
be  seen,  and  that  his  ultimate  recovery  was  very 
doubtful.  A  kind-hearted  surgeon  came  out 
and  tried  to  cheer  the  lad  up,  bidding  him  hope 
for  the  best;  but  in  spite  of  this  well-meant 
consolation  the  young  recruit  spent  an  utterly 
wretched  day.  During  the  morning  and  part 
of  the  afternoon  he  was  under  the  tuition  of  a 
drill-sergeant.  At  another  time  he  would  have 
taken  keen  delight  in  learning  the  duties  of  a 
soldier,  but  the  thought  of  his  father  lying  in 
the  dreary  hospital  made  the  work  irksome  to 
him,  and  it  was  a  great  relief  when  he  was  set 
at  liberty. 

At  eventide,  when  supper  was  over,  and  the 
camp-fires  were  casting  ruddy  gleams  on  the 


NATHAN    BECOMES    A   SOLDIEK  .  55 

quiet  waters  of  the  Schuylkill  and  the  brown 
hills,  Nathan  was  drawn  aside  by  a  member  of 
the  company  named  Barnabas  Otter.  The  latter 
had  been  a  friend  and  neighbor  of  Captain 
Stanbury  and  his  son  up  at  Wyoming,  and 
though  now  quite  an  old  man  he  was  as  rugged 
and  able-bodied  as  many  who  were  half  his  age. 

"  Sit  down  here,  my  boy,"  said  Barnabas,  in- 
dicating a  log  in  front  of  his  hut. 

"  None  of  my  mess-mates  are  about,  an'  we 
can  have  a  quiet  chat  to  ourselves.  This  open 
sort  of  weather  is  nice  after  what  we've  had,  but 
I'm  thinkin'  it  won't  last  long.  Lucky  for  you 
the  Schuylkill  wasn't  froze  night  before  last,  else 
you  would  hardly  have  given  the  British  troop- 
ers the  slip.  Why,  it's  the  talk  of  the  camp, 
lad — the  way  you  outwitted  the  enemy.  We 
fellows  from  Wyoming  ain't  the  ones  to  be 
caught  napping,  are  we  ?" 

Nathan  smiled  sadly.  "  I  did  my  duty,  that 
was  all,"  he  replied.  "But  I  would  go  back 
this  minute  and  surrender  myself  to  the  British, 
if  that  would  restore  my  father  to  health." 


56  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

"  I  don't  wonder  you  feel  bad  about  it,"  said 
Barnabas.  "  We  all  do,  lad,  for  there  ain't  a 
braver  and  better  liked  man  at  Valley  Forge 
than  Captain  Stanbury.  I  only  wish  I'd  been 
along  to  take  part  in  that  little  scrimmage ;  it 
was  this  pesky  lame  foot  that  kept  me  in  camp. 
How  is  the  captain  this  evening?  Have  you 
heard  ?" 

"  Just  the  same — no  better,"  answered  Nathan. 
"  I  was  at  the  hospital  a  bit  ago,  and  they  won't 
let  me  see  him.  The  surgeons  were  awfully 
kind,  but  they  don't  seem  to  have  much  hope. 
The  wound  is  a  bad  one,  and  it's  in  a  vital  place. 
Oh  !  what  will  I  do  if  my  father  dies — " 

The  lad  broke  down,  and  could  say  no  more. 
He  covered  his  face  with  both  hands,  and  hot 
tears  fell  from  between  his  fingers. 

Barnabas  patted  Nathan  on  the  shoulder. 
"  Now,  now,  don't  take  on  so,"  he  muttered 
huskily.  "  Cheer  up,  young  comrade  !  Your 
father  ain't  going  to  die — his  country  and  Gen- 
eral Washington  need  him  too  badly.  He's 
been  through  too  much  this  winter  to  be  taken 


NATHAN    BECOMES   A   SOLDIEK  57 

off  by  a  British  bullet.  Mark  my  words,  lad, 
he'll  be  on  his  feet  again  before  the  spring  cam- 
paign opens." 

"  I  hope  and  pray  that  he  will,"  said  Nathan, 
cheered  by  the  old  man's  confident  words. 

"  That's  the  way  to  talk,"  exclaimed  Barna- 
bas. "  Listen,  now,  an'  I'll  tell  you  what  the 
captain  an'  the  rest  of  us  have  been  through 
since  we  went  into  camp  here.  I  reckon  you 
ain't  heard  all." 

"  I  never  heard  as  much  as  I  wanted  to,"  re- 
plied Nathan  ;  "  I  didn't  get  the  chance.  But 
I  know  it  was  awful." 

"Awful  ain't  half  the  truth,"  declared  Barna- 
bas, with  strong  emphasis.  "  There's  been  wars 
and  wars  in  this  world,  but  I  don't  believe  any 
army  ever  suffered  like  ours  did  the  last  few 
weeks.  It's  bad  enough  now,  but  it's  not  what 
it  was.  I  tell  you,  lad,  we've  got  to  win  if 
there's  a  Providence  up  yonder — and  I  know 
there  is." 

Barnabas  was  silent  for  a  moment,  and  then 
he  resumed.  "  It  was  the  llth  of  last  Decem- 


58  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

her  when  we  started  for  here  from  Whitrnarsh, 
lad,  and  the  march  took  us  four  days.  Half  of 
us  were  without  shoes,  and  there  was  a  steady 
trail  of  frozen  blood  along  the  way.  And  when 
we  got  here  things  looked  as  blue  as  could  be. 
The  place  was  a  lonely  wilderness — mostly  trees 
and  water  and  hills.  But  Washington  and  his 
officers  declared  it  was  a  strong  position,  an'  I 
reckon  they  were  right." 

"  What  did  you  do  first  ?"  asked  Nathan. 

"Built  redoubts  and  dug  entrenchments,"  re- 
plied Barnabas,  "an'  then  we  commenced  on 
the  huts.  What  a  time  we  had  of  it  in  the  bit- 
ter weather  and  snow,  felling  and  hauling  the 
trees  and  putting  the  logs  together !  And  it 
took  purty  near  as  long  to  stuff  the  cracks  with 
clay,  and  cover  the  window  openings  with  oiled 
paper.  Why,  it  was  the  first  of  the  year  till  we 
got  into  the  huts." 

"  I  don't  see  how  you  lived  through  the  ex- 
posure, all  the  time  you  were  working  and  sleep- 
ing without  shelter,"  said  Nathan. 

"I  hardly  see  myself,  lad,  looking  back  on  it 


59 

now,"  declared  Barnabas.  "  It  were  little  short 
of  a  miracle.  We  were  without  proper  food  and 
clothing,  to  say  nothing  of  shelter.  Flour  and 
water,  baked  at  open  fires,  was  mostly  all  we 
had  to  eat,  and  we  were  without  bread  for  days 
at  a  time.  You  see,  supplies  were  scarce  in  the 
surrounding  country,  owin'  to  the  military 
operations  of  last  summer.  Lots  of  us  had  no 
shirts,  and  the  hospitals  were  full  of  barefooted 
soldiers  who  couldn't  work  for  want  of  shoes." 

"And  where  did  you  sleep  at  nights?"  in- 
quired Nathan. 

"  Where  we  could,"  Barnabas  answered  bit- 
terly. "Those  of  us  who  had  blankets  were 
glad  to  sleep  on  the  hard  ground,  though  the 
weather  was  the  coldest  and  the  snows  the 
deepest  I  ever  knew.  As  for  those  who  had  no 
covering — why,  lad,  I've  seen  dozens  of  men, 
after  working  hard  all  day,  sit  awake  around  the 
fires  from  sunset  till  sunrise  to  keep  from  freez- 
ing. And  all  this  time  Lord  Howe  and  his 
army  were  snug  and  warm  in  our  Philadelphia, 
an'  livin'  off  the  fat  of  the  laud." 


60  IN   THE   DAYS    OF   WASHINGTON 

"  Which  they're  doing  yet,"  Nathan  ex- 
claimed, wrathfully.  "  Haven't  I  seen  them 
with  my  own  eyes?" 

"  Just  wait  till  the  winter's  over,"  said  Bar- 
nabas. "  They  may  be  singing  a  different  tune 
then.  Ain't  Benjamin  Franklin  across  the  sea 
tryin'  to  get  the  French  to  help  us,  lad  ?" 

"  Yes,"  assented  Nathan. 

"And  is  there  no  word  from  him  yet?" 

"  Not  yet,  Barnabas ;  but  it  may  come  any 
day." 

"  It  can't  come  too  soon,"  replied  the  old  man. 
"  And  now  to  go  on  with  my  story.  As  I  was 
saying,  lad,  it  was  the  first  of  the  year  till 
we  got  into  the  huts,  and  since  then  we've  been 
sufferin'  purty  near  as  bad.  The  horses  died  by 
hundreds,  and  the  men  had  to  haul  their  own 
supplies  and  fire-wood.  And  look  at  the  sick 
men  in  the  hospital,  and  men  with  legs  ampu- 
tated, and  men  with  legs  froze  black — that's  on 
account  of  there  being  no  straw  to  sleep  on.  But 
it's  no  use  my  tellin'  you,  for  you'll  see  it  all 
yourself." 


NATHAN    BECOMES    A    SOLDIER  61 

"  I  have  seen  it,"  exclaimed  Nathan,  "  even 
in  the  short  time  I  have  been  here,  and  what  I 
wonder  at  most  is  the  way  the  men  endure  their 
sufferings.  There  is  no  complaining — " 

"  Complaining  ?"  interrupted  Barnabas.  "  I 
should  say  not,  lad.  This  is  an  army  of  heroes, 
from  General  Washington  down.  You  should 
have  seen  your  father  during  some  of  them 
blackest  times,  not  thinking  of  himself,  but 
sharing  his  rations  and  blanket  with  others,  and 
helping  weak  and  sick  soldiers  in  their  work — " 

Barnabas  stopped  thus  abruptly,  seeing  tears 
in  Nathan's  eyes,  and  wisely  tacked  off  on  a 
different  subject.  For  some  time  longer  the  two 
friends  chatted,  discussing  the  past  and  the 
future,  and  deploring  the  well-known  fact  that 
Congress  and  the  people  were  withholding  their 
sympathies  and  confidence  from  Washington  in 
this  the  darkest  period  of  his  career. 

At  last  the  bugles  sounded  taps,  and  they 
retired  to  their  damp  huts  to  sleep  till  the  dawn 
of  another  day. 


CHAPTER  IV 

IN  WHICH  NATHAN'S  MILITARY  CAREER  VERY 
NEARLY  TERMINATES 

WITHIN  a  few  days  Nathan  was  thoroughly 
accustomed  to  his  new  life,  and  though  the 
weather  turned  bitter  and  freezing,  giving  him 
a  taste  of  the  hardships  the  army  had  endured 
before  his  arrival,  he  felt  no  longing  or  desire  to 
return  to  the  comfortable  guardianship  of  Cor- 
nelius De  Vries. 

On  the  contrary,  he  took  pride  in  showing 
that  he  could  endure  the  rigors  and  duties  of 
camp-life  as  unflinchingly  as  the  older  and  vet- 
eran soldiers.  His  pluck  and  boyish  good 
nature  quickly  made  him  a  favorite  with  offi- 
cers and  men  alike.  He  was  always  ready  to 
help  a  comrade,  or  to  assume  tasks  that  did  not 
properly  belong  to  him.  Without  a  murmur  he 
did  picket-duty  by  day  or  night,  in  rain  and 
snow  and  freezing  cold.  He  made  light  of  the 
62 


NATHAN'S  CAREER  NEARLY  TERMINATES    63 

poor  and  scanty  food  that  was  served  out  to  him, 
and  when  he  lay  awake  shivering  for  want  of 
sufficient  covering,  his  bed-fellows  heard  never 
a  word  of  complaint  from  his  lips. 

Thus  a  week  passed,  and  the  lad's  heroic  and 
steadfast  performance  of  duty  was  all  the  more 
praiseworthy  because  he  was  hourly  tortured  by 
fears  for  his  father's  life.  The  result  of  Cap- 
tain Stanbury's  wound  was  still  uncertain.  He 
was  delirious  and  in  a  high  fever,  and  none  but 
the  hospital  attendants  and  surgeons  were  per- 
mitted to  see  him.  He  was  receiving  the  best 
care  and  treatment  possible  under  the  circum- 
stances, and  his  vigorous  constitution  was  a 
strong  point  in  his  favor ;  but  until  the  crisis 
was  reached  the  issue  could  not  be  foretold.  Not 
only  the  Wyoming  men,  but  many  others  as 
well,  longed  and  prayed  for  the  gallant  captain's 
recovery.  Washington  sent  twice  daily  to  in- 
quire for  him,  and  on  several  occasions  spoke  a 
few  words  of  comfort  and  hope  to  Nathan  in 
person. 

In  the  meantime  the  lad  had  written  to  Cor- 


64  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

nelius  De  Vries,  and  the  letter,  together  with 
certain  official  dispatches  to  patriot  friends  in 
Philadelphia,  was  delivered  by  a  trusty  messen- 
ger. The  latter,  on  his  return  to  camp,  brought 
papers  for  Washington  and  a  reply  to  Nathan's 
letter.  Of  necessity  the  worthy  Hollander  wrote 
briefly,  yet  what  he  had  to  say  was  full  of  inter- 
est. He  expressed  deep  sorrow  for  Captain 
Stanbury's  critical  illness,  and  while  he  showed 
that  he  was  sorry  to  lose  Nathan  and  missed 
him  greatly,  he  took  pains  to  give  the  lad  some 
good  advice  suitable  for  a  soldier's  career.  Re- 
ferring to  the  memorable  night  at  the  Indian 
Queen,  he  stated  that  Anthony  Benezet  and 
Timothy  Matlack  had  escaped  to  the  lower  floor 
of  the  tavern  in  the  darkness  and  confusion  that 
followed  the  pursuit  of  Nathan,  and  that  Jen- 
kins had  concealed  them  in  the  cellar  until  the 
danger  was  over.  "  Major  Langdon  was  slightly 
wounded  in  the  arm,"  a  postscript  added,  "by 
the  bullet  that  shattered  his  lantern." 

A  few  words  must  be  said  here  concerning 
Mr.  Noah  Waxpenny.     That  peculiar  individ- 


NATHAN'S  CAREER  NEARLY  TERMINATES     65 

ual  did  not  appear  again  at  the  Indian.  Queen. 
Being  under  the  impression  that  the  information 
given  him  was  true,  and  that  Major  Langdon 
was  not  in  the  town,  he  took  up  temporary 
quarters  at  the  Cross  Keys  Inn  on  Chestnut 
Street.  For  several  days  he  was  occupied  in 
making  sly  inquiries  about  Richard  Stanbury 
and  a  certain  other  person,  with  what  success 
will  appear  further  on  in  the  story.  Then,  still 
taking  it  for  granted  that  Major  Langdon  was 
not  in  Philadelphia,  he  set  out  for  Long  Island 
in  search  of  him.  But  on  reaching  New  York 
he  was  prostrated  by  illness  resulting  from  a 
heavy  cold,  and  in  that  city  he  lay  on  his  back 
for  weeks,  unable  to  give  any  attention  to  the 
task  that  had  brought  him  to  America. 

A  few  days  after  the  receipt  of  Cornelius  De 
Vries's  letter,  and  while  Captain  Stanbury  was 
still  hovering  between  life  and  death,  Nathan 
met  with  an  adventure  which  very  nearly  ter- 
minated fatally,  but  which  raised  him  even 
higher  in  the  estimation  of  the  commander-in- 
chief.  To  his  own  quick  wits  and  courage  he 


66 

owed  his  escape,  but  in  after  life  he  could  never 
recall  that  night  without  a  shudder. 

Driven  by  necessity  to  make  use  of  a  power 
granted  him  by  Congress,  Washington  had 
issued  a  proclamation  to  all  the  farmers  within 
seventy  miles  of  Valley  Forge — they  were 
mostly  Tories  in  their  sympathies — ordering 
them  to  thresh  out  as  much  grain  as  might  be 
demanded,  and  at  short  notice,  under  penalty  of 
having  their  whole  stock  seized  as  straw.  Re- 
quisitions were  first  made  on  the  farmers  living 
at  a  distance,  while  those  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
camp  were  prudently  left  till  the  last.  Among 
the  latter  was  a  certain  Jacob  Troup,  a  man 
known  to  be  loyal  to  the  Americans,  and  the 
owner  of  a  large  barn  stocked  with  the  previous 
summer's  crop  of  wheat  and  oats.  His  turn 
came  during  the  third  week  in  February,  and 
as  the  farm  was  close  to  camp,  and  Troup  had 
three  or  four  hirelings  in  his  employ,  a  lot  of 
confiscated  grain  was  brought  there  to  be 
threshed  at  the  same  time  with  his  own. 

For  three  days  the  work  went  on,  the  greater 


NATHAN'S  CAREER  NEARLY  TERMINATES  67 

portion  of  the  grain  accumulating  in  the  loyal 
farmer's  granary  preparatory  to  being  carted  to 
camp.  But,  late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  fourth 
day,  Washington  received  word  that  a  force  of 
British  cavalry  had  been  seen  within  twenty 
miles  of  Valley  Forge,  and  this  news,  consid- 
ered in  connection  with  a  well-founded  rumor 
that  spies  were,  or  had  been,  within  the  lines, 
led  him  to  take  prompt  measures  to  secure  the 
large  store  of  grain. 

For  this  duty  twenty  men  of  the  Wyoming 
Company  were  detailed,  and  Barnabas  Otter 
and  Nathan  were  of  the  number.  So  many  of 
the  officers  were  sick  or  disabled  that  the  com- 
mand of  the  little  party  fell  to  the  lot  of  Corpo- 
ral Dubbs.  Shortly  after  supper  they  formed 
in  the  company  street  and  marched  quietly 
through  the  camp,  heading  southwest  toward 
Philadelphia.  They  passed  out  of  the  lines  be- 
tween Knox's  batteries  and  Woodford's  redoubt, 
from  which  point  the  farmhouse  of  Jacob  Troup 
was  rather  more  than  a  mile  distant. 

It  was  as   bitter  and  stormy  a  night  as  the 


68  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

army  at  Valley  Forge  could  remember  in  all 
that  winter.  That  morning  a  brief  thaw  had 
been  succeeded  by  a  cold  snap,  which  formed  a 
hard  crust  on  the  snow  that  thickly  covered  the 
ground.  Since  afternoon  fresh  snow  had  been 
falling,  and  now  the  flakes  were  coining  down 
in  a  dense,  fine  mass.  Aided  by  a  cutting  wind 
drifts  were  gathering  here  and  there,  and  it  was 
impossible  to  see  more  than  a  few  yards  in  any 
direction.  The  cold  was  still  intense. 

Under  these  circumstances  the  thinly-clad 
and  poorly-shod  men  suffered  greatly  as  they 
marched  on  in  the  teeth  of  the  storm,  leading 
with  them  four  horses  that  were  to  haul  the 
grain  to  camp  in  the  farmer's  big  sledge.  But 
not  a  word  of  complaint  was  uttered.  The 
thought  that  the  success  of  their  mission  meant 
bread  for  the  army  kept  their  spirits  up,  and 
like  true  heroes  they  faced  the  cold  and  snow. 
No  doubt  the  brave  fellows  longed  for  a  fight  to 
heat  their  blood,  but  there  was  little  chance  that 
any  of  the  British  would  be  hovering  near  on 
such  a  night  as  this, 


NATHAN'S  CAREER  NEARLY  TERMINATES     69 

On  they  went,  holding  their  musket-stocks 
with  numbed  fingers.  In  a  black  line  they 
straggled  through  the  storm,  up  hill  and  down, 
across  patches  of  timber  and  low  scrub,  now 
knee-deep  in  fresh  snow-drifts,  now  plodding 
over  the  wind-swept  crust  beneath.  At  last  the 
leader  gave  the  word  to  halt.  It  was  in  a  hollow 
partly  sheltered  from  the  wind,  and  straight 
ahead,  toward  Philadelphia,  the  snowy  land- 
scape merged  duskily  into  the  night.  To  the 
left  a  narrow  lane  led  fifty  yards  to  the  farm 
buildings  of  Jacob  Troup.  Word  of  the  coming 
had  been  sent  to  him,  and  a  cheery  light  was 
flashing  in  house  and  barn. 

"  All's  well,"  declared  Corporal  Dubbs.  "  I 
expected  nothing  else,  for  the  Britishers  ain't 
the  kind  of  chaps  to  stir  from  their  warm  fires 
in  such  weather.  But  precautions  won't  go 
amiss,  and  I'm  going  to  post  half  a  dozen  pick- 
ets to  watch  while  the  rest  of  us  load  the  grain." 

Accordingly  he  selected  two  men,  and  gave 
them  orders  to  advance  to  the  left  and  take  their 
stand  on  a  road  that  lay  some  distance  to  the 


70  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

rear  of  the  farm  buildings.  "  Amos  Brown," 
he  said,  u  you  and  Tom  Relyea  march  in  the 
opposite  direction — off  here  to  the  right — and 
keep  on  till  you  come  to  the  road  that  leads  to 
the  Schuylkill  beyond  Valley  Creek." 

The  corporal  now  turned  to  Barnabas  Otter, 
pointing  one  numbed  hand  straight  ahead  to  the 
southwest,  in  a  direction  at  right  angles  to  those 
indicated  to  the  other  sentries.  "  Comrade,  you 
know  who  lives  over  yonder?"  he  asked. 

"  Abner  Wilkinson,"  replied  Barnabas.  "  I've 
seen  the  place  often.  The  owner  is  a  rank  Tory." 

"  Ay,  he's  said  to  be,"  admitted  the  corporal, 
"  and  I  reckon  opinion  is  right.  He  certainly 
looked  mighty  sour  when  we  stript  him  of  his 
grain  and  stock.  Well,  to  proceed,  just  back  of 
Abner  Wilkinson's  barn  is  a  broad  lane  that 
connects  further  on  with  the  main  highway 
from  Philadelphia..  It's  bordered  by  woods,  and 
if  the  enemy  come  at  all,  they'll  likely  come 
that  way.  So  you  post  yourself  on  that  little 
hill  overlooking  the  road  beyond  the  barn — it's 
not  much  over  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  here. 


NATHAN'S  CAREER  NEARLY  TERMINATES     71 

Nathan  Stanbury  will  go  with  you  as  far  as  the 
orchard  this  side  of  the  house,  and  that's  where 
I  want  him  to  stay.  Do  you  understand  ?" 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir,"  assented  Barnabas. 

"  And  you,  lad  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  understand,"  said  Nathan.  "  I'm  to 
mount  guard  at  the  edge  of  the  orchard." 

"  Exactly ;  and  keep  an  eye  on  the  house. 
I'm  telling  you  this  because  of  the  rumors  about 
spies  being  in  camp.  The  family  are  living  in 
Philadelphia,  and  Abner  Wilkinson  is  said  to 
be  there  too.  But  I've  my  doubts  about  that, 
and  you  and  Barnabas  .may  learn  something 
to-night  if  you're  wide-awake." 

The  six  pickets  had  stepped  to  the  front  as 
their  names  were  called,  and  Corporal  Dubbs  now 
addressed  them  collectively  in  a  few  brief  words. 
"  These  precautions  are  no  more  than  my  duty 
warrants,"  he  said.  "  A  soldier  never  knows 
what's  going  to  happen.  As  for  the  posts  I've 
assigned  you  to — why,  I  don't  believe  General 
Washington  himself  could  improve  on  'em.  If 
the  enemy  come  they  won't  find  us  napping, 


72  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

and  there'll  be  plenty  of  time  to  save  the  grain. 
In  case  all  goes  well  you  can  leave  your  places 
in  about  half  an  hour  from  the  time  you  get 
there.  Should  one  of  you  discover  the  British 
he  will  fire  his  musket,  and  then  you  must  all 
fall  back.  The  report  will  reach  us  over  here, 
and  will  give  us  a  chance  to  get  the  grain  into 
the  lines.  Now  off  with  you,  and  be  spry 
about  it." 

The  corporal  gave  the  word  to  march,  and  his 
fourteen  men  and  four  horses  followed  him  down 
the  lane  toward  the  farm-house.  The  six  pick- 
ets, trudging  off  by  twos,  quickly  vanished  in 
the  darkness  and  the  storm.  Side  by  side 
Nathan  and  Barnabas  struck  over  the  open  field, 
and  a  tramp  of  a  quarter  of  a  mile  brought 
them  to  the  crest  of  a  slight  ridge,  from  whence 
they  saw  the  Tory  farmer's  house  and  barn 
looming  mistily  out  of  the  snow  at  a  distance  of 
four  hundred  yards.  The  wind  now  had  a  clean 
sweep  at  them,  and  the  snow  cut  their  faces  like 
sleet  as  they  pushed  on  down  the  slope.  They 
felt  their  limbs  growing  numb,  and  half  of  the 


NATHAN'S  CAREER  NEARLY  TERMINATES    73 

time  they  had  to  close  their  eyes.  At  length, 
panting  and  exhausted,  they  reached  the  wel- 
come shelter  of  the  orchard,  and  were  out  of  the 
worst  of  the  storm.  For  several  minutes  they 
crouched  in  a  snow-drift  on  the  farther  side  of 
the  fence  to  recover  breath  and  to  reconnoiter. 
But  there  was  no  sign  of  danger — so  far  as  they 
could  see  or  hear.  The  house,  looming  close  by, 
had  a  dreary  and  desolate  look  with  its  shut- 
tered windows  below  and  its  black  squares  of 
glass  above. 

"  I  reckon  there's  nobody  in  yonder,"  said 
Barnabas,  his  teeth  chattering  as  he  spoke.  "  I 
sort  of  agreed  with  the  corporal  that  AbnerWil- 
kinson  might  be  lurking  about,  but  I  daresay 
he's  keeping  snug  in  Philadelphia." 

"Yes,  that's  more  likely,"  assented  Nathan. 
"  And  I  don't  believe  that  troop  of  cavalry  is 
anywhere  near." 

"  Perhaps  not,"  replied  Barnabas,  "  but  if 
they  are,  it'll  fall  to  my  lot  to  spy  'em.  I  must 
be  going  now,  lad.  Just  you  stay  right  here, 
and  be  sure  to  keep  moving  a  bit,  else  you'll  get 


74  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

numbed  and  drop  over  asleep  in  the  snow.  If 
you  hear  the  crack  of  my  weapon  don't  wait — 
cut  and  run  for  Troup's  place." 

"  And  if  I  fire  you'll  hurry  this  way  ?"  asked 
Nathan. 

"  Of  course,  lad ;  but  there's  no  danger  of  you 
givin'  an  alarm.  If  the  British  are  prowlin' 
about  I'll  be  the  first  to  see  'em." 

With  this  Barnabas  shouldered  his  musket 
and  trudged  off.  His  tall  figure  grew  dimmer 
and  dimmer  amid  the  flurrying  snow-flakes,  and 
he  was  out  of  sight  before  he  had  reached  the 
farther  end  of  the  orchard. 

A  sudden  feeling  of  loneliness  now  oppressed 
Nathan,  and  with  it  came  an  unaccountable  sus- 
picion of  danger.  He  looked  warily  up  the 
bare,  white  hillside  toward  the  Troup  farm,  and 
then  he  trudged  across  the  orchard  in  the  oppo- 
site direction.  Looking  from  the  fence  past  the 
end  of  the  barn,  he  could  vaguely  make  out 
against  the  sky-line  the  rounded  and  wooded 
little  hill  on  top  of  which  Barnabas  was  to 
mount  guard.  It  was  very  nearly  a  quarter  of 


NATHAN'S  CAREER  NEARLY  TERMINATES  75 

a  mile  distant.  Coming  back  to  his  former  post, 
he  riveted  his  eyes  on  the  house.  It  faced  to- 
ward the  barn,  and  the  side  wall  was  directly 
opposite  him,  separated  by  a  thirty  foot  strip  of 
yard.  He  half  expected  to  see  one  of  the  shut- 
ters thrown  open,  or  to  hear  the  sound  of  voices 
from  within. 

But,  as  the  minutes  slipped  by,  and  only  the 
moaning  of  the  wind  broke  the  silence  of  the 
night,  the  lad  grew  ashamed  of  his  fears.  The 
bitter  cold  was  the  only  enemy  he  had  to  con- 
tend with.  His  bare  ears  and  hands  pained 
him  terribly,  and  a  slight  sensation  of  drowsi- 
ness warned  him  that  he  must  keep  moving.  So 
he  stood  his  musket  against  a  big  apple  tree, 
wrapping  a  rag  around  the  flint  and  pan  to  pro- 
tect them  from  the  damp,  and  began  to  pace  up 
and  down  the  narrow  angle  of  the  orchard.  He 
continued  this  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  stopping 
occasionally  to  look  and  listen,  until  his  feet  had 
trodden  a  well-defined  path  between  the  trees. 
Feeling  the  need  of  more  violent  exercise,  he 
rapidly  folded  and  unfolded  his  arms  for  a  few 


76  IN    THE   DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

minutes,  and  then,  fastening  his  hands  on  a  big 
limb  overhead,  he  repeatedly  drew  his  chin  up 
to  a  level  with  it.  When  he  had  warmed  himself 
comfortably  by  these  means  he  shouldered  his 
musket  and  stepped  to  the  fence. 

"  Why  don't  Barnabas  come  ?"  he  said  half 
aloud.  "I've  surely  been  here  half  an  hour, 
and  that  was  the  limit.  By  this  time  the  grain 
ought  to  be  all  loaded  and  on  the  way  to  camp. 
I  wouldn't  mind  the  cold  if  there  was  any  fight- 
ing going  on,  but  this  sentry  duty  in  winter  is 
the  worst  part  of  a  soldier's  life.  And  I  am 
anxious  to  get  back  to  see  how  my  father  is — " 

The  sentence  was  stifled  on  the  lad's  lips,  and 
he  very  nearly  uttered  a  sharp  cry.  For  just 
then,  under  one  of  the  shuttered  windows  of  the 
house,  he  saw  a  flash  of  yellow  light.  It  was 
visible  for  a  few  seconds,  and  then  it  vanished 
as  mysteriously  as  it  had  appeared. 

Nathan  felt  a  cold  shiver  run  down  his  back. 
"Did  I  imagine  that  light?"  he  asked  himself, 
"  or  is  there  some  one  in  the  house  ?" 

The  next  instant  he  was  crouching  low  behind 


NATHANS  CAREER  NEARLY  TERMINATES   // 

the  fence,  every  nerve  quivering  with  excite- 
ment, and  his  musket  trembling  in  his  hands, 
He  had  made  another  startling  discovery,  and 
one  that  was  too  real  to  be  doubted.  The  dark 
figure  of  a  man  was  approaching  the  rear  of  the 
house  from  the  direction  of  the  American  lines, 
and  it  was  only  too  evident  that  he  was  not  one 
of  Corporal  Dubbs's  sentries.  On  he  came 
through  the  drifted  snow,  stepping  quickly  but 
stealthily,  and  turning  his  head  from  right  to 
left. 

Nathan  aimed  his  musket  through  the  fence. 
"A  spy !"  he  muttered.  "  He's  just  been  to  the 
camp !  Shall  I  shoot  ?"  putting  his  finger  to 
the  trigger.  "  No,  I  have  a  better  plan.  He's 
going  to  the  house,  and  there  he'll  be  trapped." 

The  lad  was  right.  A  moment  later  the 
crouching  figure  had  gained  the  rear  wall  and 
was  lost  to  sight.  A  door  was  heard  to  softly 
open  and  close. 

Nathan  watched  and  listened  in  vain.  For 
half  a  minute  he  hesitated.  Should  he  hurry 
off  to  bring  Barnabas,  or  should  he  first  en- 


78  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

deavor  to  learn  who  was  in  the  house  ?  The 
thought  that  he  might,  after  all,  be  mistaken 
decided  him.  Holding  his  musket  ready  for 
instant  use  he  lightly  scaled  the  fence,  and 
waded  through  the  snow  to  the  side  wall  of  the 
house.  He  crept  to  the  rear  angle,  cautiously 
peeped  around,  and  then  boldly  turned  it.  A 
few  steps  brought  him  to  the  door,  and  he  dis- 
covered it  was  open  a  few  inches.  The  wind 
had  evidently  done  this,  the  latch  having  failed 
to  drop  into  its  socket. 

Nathan  stood  at  attention,  outwardly  cool  and 
alert  in  spite  of  his  inward  excitement.  All 
was  black  behind  the  crevice,  but  he  could  hear 
faint  voices  at  a  distance.  The  temptation  was 
too  strong  to  be  resisted,  and  with  a  sudden  im- 
pulse he  carefully  pushed  the  door  farther  open 
and  stepped  into  what  seemed  to  be  a  wide  hall. 
Looking  to  the  left  he  saw  another  door.  This 
also  was  open  an  inch  or  two,  and  in  the  lighted 
room  to  which  it  led  two  persons  were  talking 
in  low  and  eager  tones. 

"  I've  got  to  find  out  who's  in  there,"  the  lad 


NATHAN'S  CAREER  NEARLY  TERMINATES     79 

resolved.  Holding  his  gun  in  front  of  him  he 
advanced  with  a  cat-like  tread.  Happily  the 
bare  floor  did  not  creak  under  him,  and  his 
ragged  shoes  were  so  full  of  snow  that  they 
made  no  noise.  He  reached  the  door,  halted, 
and  peered  anxiously  through  the  crack. 

What  he  saw  was  a  small  room,  scantily  fur- 
nished with  a  bed,  two  chairs,  and  a  table.  A 
lamp  was  burning  dimly  on  a  shelf,  and  every 
crevice  of  the  one  window  was  stuffed  with  rags 
to  keep  the  light  from  showing  outside — a  pre- 
caution that  had  not  been  entirely  successful. 

In  the  chair  beside  the  table  sat  a  bearded, 
harsh-looking  man,  who  could  be  none  other 
than  Abner  Wilkinson  himself;  he  was  wrapped 
in  a  heavy  cloak  and  held  a  hat  in  his  hand. 
Near  by  stood  the  man  who  had  just  entered 
the  house.  He  was  young  and  smooth-shaven, 
with  a  handsome  but  sinister  countenance.  He 
was  hurriedly  exchanging  his  snowy  and  wet 
garments  for  a  uniform  of  green  faced  with 
white — the  uniform,  as  Nathan  well  knew,  of 
the  Tory  soldiers  of  the  British  army. 


80  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

The  lad  saw  all  this  at  a  brief  glance,  and 
then  he  listened  keenly  to  the  conversation.  "  I 
wouldn't  have  done  what  you  did  for  a  king's 
ransom,"  Abner  Wilkinson  was  saying.  "  Man, 
you  took  your  life  in  your  hands — " 

"  But  I  got  what  I  wanted,"  the  other  inter- 
rupted, calmly,  "  and  now  that  I  have  them  safe 
we  had  better  be  off  at  once.  There's  no  telling 
what  will  happen  if  the  loss  is  discovered,  as  it 
may  be  at  any  moment." 

"It's  a  bad  night  to  travel  on  foot,"  said  Ab- 
ner Wilkinson.  "  Don't  you  think  we  might 
wait  till  morning?  There's  no  danger  of  your 
being  traced  here,  for  the  snow  will  cover  your 
footsteps — " 

"  But  not  right  away.  I  tell  you  we're  in 
danger,  and  the  sooner  we  start  the  better.  Have 
you  got  those  other  papers  ready  ?" 

"  Yes,  Captain,"  the  Tory  farmer  answered  ; 
and  he  stepped  toward  a  closet  at  the  end  of  the 
room. 

Out  in  the  dark  hall  Nathan  trembled  with 
excitement.  "  They  have  papers,"  he  said  to 


NATHAN'S  CAREER  NEARLY  TERMINATES    81 

himseli',  "  and  the  one  in  uniform  has  been  spy- 
ing in  our  lines.  They  musn't  get  away." 

Just  then  Abner  Wilkinson  turned  around 
from  the  closet,  holding  a  packet  in  his  hand. 
"  Here  they  are,  Captain,"  he  said. 

"  Put  them  in  your  pocket,"  replied  the  offi- 
cer. "  They  may  be  as  important  as  those  I 
have.  Are  you  ready  to  start?  We'll  go  as 
soon  as  Mawhood  comes  back.  I'm  beginning 
to  feel  worried  about  him." 

"  Oh,  he'll  be  in  presently,"  said  Wilkinson, 
"  unless  he's  lost  his  bearings  in  the  storm — " 

Nathan  trembled  with  sudden  fear,  missing 
the  rest  of  the  sentence.  "  There's  another 
spy,"  he  reflected,  "  and  he's  outside  somewhere. 
These  two  are  waiting  for  him.  Whew !  what 
a  scrape  I'm  in  !  There's  no  time  to  lose  if  I 
want  to  get  away." 

He  turned  cautiously  around  to  retreat,  and 
even  as  he  did  so  the  floor  creaked  and  he  saw 
a  dark  object  between  himself  and  the  outer 
door.  The  next  instant,  as  he  made  a  headlong 
dash  for  liberty,  a  strong  arm  encircled  him  and 
6 


82  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

a  hand  clutched  his  throat.  The  lad's  musket 
fell  with  a  crash,  and  he  struggled  hard  to  break 
loose.  But  his  efforts  were  futile.  In  less  time 
than  it  takes  to  tell  he  was  dragged,  bruised  and 
half-choked,  into  the  room.  Abner  Wilkinson 
was  trembling  with  fright  in  a  far  corner,  and 
the  officer  had  drawn  a  sword  and  a  pistol. 
With  an  oath  he  reached  for  the  lamp,  evidently 
intending  to  blow  it  out. 

"  Stop,  sir ;  you  needn't  do  that,"  cried  Na- 
than's captor,  who  was  a  burly  Britisher  in  plain 
dress.  "  There's  only  one  of  'em,  and  I've  got 
him  safe.  He  must  have  crept  into  the  house  a 
bit  ago,  for  he  was  listening  at  yonder  door  when 
I  spied  him."  He  released  the  lad's  throat,  and 
held  him  out  at  arm's  length. 

The  officer  glared  at  Nathan.  "Are  you  sure 
there  are  no  more,  Mawhood  ?"  he  demanded 
hoarsely. 

"Quite  sure,  Captain,"  the  man  replied. 
"  There's  a  party  of  rebels  removing  the  grain 
from  Troup's  farm  back  across  the  hill,  and  this 
chap  was  posted  here  as  an  advance  picket. 


NATHAN'S  CAREER  NEARLY  TERMINATES     83 

There  are  no  others  in  the  neighborhood,  for  I've 
been  all  around  the  house.  But  I  would  advise 
getting  away  just  as  quick  as  possible — " 

"  Yes,  yes,  let's  start  at  once !"  interrupted 
Abner  Wilkinson,  who  was  pale  with  fright. 
"  We  will  be  hung  if  we  are  caught." 

"  We  must  attend  to  the  prisoner  first,"  said 
the  officer.  "  Who  are  you  ?"  he  added  to  the 
lad.  "  Why  did  you  come  in  here  ?" 

Nathan  tightened  his  lips  and  made  no  reply. 

"  Do  you  hear  ?"  thundered  the  officer.  "An- 
swer my  questions !  Were  you  listening  at  the 
door  while  we  talked  ?  Are  any  more  of  your 
rebel  friends  posted  in  the  neighborhood  ?" 

"  I  won't  tell  you,  sir,"  the  lad  replied  firmly. 

"You  won't?"  cried  the  officer.  "Well,  if 
you  did  it  wouldn't  help  you  any  now.  I'm 
going  to  hang  you,  my  fine  fellow." 

"  Yes,  hang  the  dog,"  exclaimed  the  Tory 
farmer.  "  I'll  show  you  how."  He  darted  to 
the  closet  and  produced  a  coil  of  heavy  rope. 
The  soldier  quickly  seized  this  in  obedience  to 
a  signal  from  his  officer,  threw  one  end  over  a 


B4  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

thick  beam  of  the  ceiling,  and  deftly  looped  the 
other  end.  Swish  !  the  fatal  noose  settled  on 
Nathan's  neck,  and  was  tightened  by  a  jerk. 

The  lad  stood  firm,  but  in  a  few  seconds  a 
thousand  thoughts  seemed  to  flit  through  his 
throbbing  brain.  He  thought  of  Philadelphia, 
of  Cornelius  De  Vries,  of  his  father  lying  sick 
in  the  hospital — of  all  his  past  life.  He  realized 
that  there  was  no  hope  for  him.  Even  should 
he  shout,  Barnabas  and  the  other  sentries  were 
too  far  away  to  hear  him. 

Mawhood  stood  face  to  face  with  Nathan  at  a 
distance  of  a  couple  of  feet.  The  end  of  the 
rope  was  twisted  in  both  his  hands,  and  the 
officer  was  close  alongside  of  him.  The  latter 
pulled  out  a  watch.  "  I'll  give  you  twenty 
seconds  to  pray,"  he  said,  "and  then  up  you  go." 

"  Don't  murder  me,"  Nathan  begged  hoarsely. 
"  I've  done  nothing  to  deserve  death." 

"You're  a  dog  of  a  rebel,"  was  the  brutal  an- 
swer, "  and  that's  enough.  Ten  seconds  gone." 

The  lad  glanced  at  the  mocking  and  merci- 
less faces  of  his  enemies,  hardly  realizing  his 


NATHAN'S  CAREER  NEARLY  TERMINATES     85 

doom,  and  then  a  ray  of  hope  flashed  suddenly 
to  his  bewildered  brain.  His  hands  had  fortu- 
nately been  left  untied,  and  as  he  saw  a  huge 
pistol  protruding  from  the  soldier's  belt  decision 
and  action  were  almost  simultaneous.  A  rapid 
snatch,  and  the  barrel  of  the  weapon  was  be- 
tween his  fingers.  As  quickly  the  butt  crushed 
with  stunning  force  on  Mawhood's  temple,  and 
over  he  went  like  a  log,  the  rope  slipping  from 
his  nerveless  fingers. 

Back  Nathan  sprang  with  a  shout,  and  re- 
versing and  cocking  the  pistol  he  turned  it  on 
the  officer.  The  latter  already  had  his  own 
pistol  out  and  leveled,  but  when  the  hammer 
fell  only  a  sharp  click  followed.  With  an  oath 
he  dodged  to  one  side,  and  his  agility  saved  his 
life.  The  lad's  bullet  barely  grazed  him,  and 
struck  Abner  Wilkinson,  who  was  directly  in 
range.  With  a  shrill  cry  the  Tory  farmer  fell 
to  his  knees  and  then  toppled  "over  on  his 
back. 

The  report  was  terrific  and  seemed  to  shake 
the  very  house.  The  powder  smoke  hid  the 


86  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

scene  for  a  moment,  and  then  it  cleared  suffi- 
ciently to  reveal  the  officer  in  the  act  of  drawing 
his  sword.  There  was  no  time  to  hesitate,  and 
Nathan  dashed  at  him  before  he  could  lift  the 
weapon  for  a  thrust.  The  two  grappled,  swayed 
fiercely  for  a  few  moments,  and  then  came 
heavily  to  the  floor.  Over  and  over  they  rolled 
in  a  tight  embrace,  the  officer  cursing  most 
savagely,  and  Nathan  shouting  at  the  top  of  his 
voice. 

The  struggle  lasted  but  a  short  time,  though 
to  the  combatants  it  seemed  a  long  while.  The 
lad  was  the  weaker  of  the  two,  and  he  realized 
that  he  must  soon  succumb.  But  he  fought  on, 
gasping  hard  for  breath,  and  just  when  his  hold 
was  relaxing  there  came  a  rush  of  feet  and  a 
loud  shout. 

The  faithful  Barnabas  had  arrived,  and  with- 
out an  instant's  delay  he  hauled  the  officer  away 
from  his  intended  victim.  Nathan  was  able  to 
assist,  and  between  the  two  the  desperate  Brit- 
isher was  overpowered  and  his  arms  were  bound 
behind  him  with  the  rope  that  had  so  nearly 


NATHAN'S  CAREER  NEARLY  TERMINATES    87 

ended  the  plucky  lad's  life.  Abner  Wilkinson 
was  just  breathing  his  last,  and  the  soldier  Maw- 
hood  was  beginning  to  show  signs  of  returning 
consciousness. 

"The  shot  brought  me  here  in  time,"  ex- 
claimed Barnabas.  "  But  what  does  it  all  mean, 
lad  ?" 

Before  Nathan  could  reply  a  muffled  clatter 
of  hoofs  was  heard  from  the  rear  of  the  house, 
followed  by  the  shrill  whinny  of  a  horse.  Bar- 
nabas and  the  lad  exchanged  startled  glances, 
but  they  quickly  discovered  that  they  had  no 
cause  for  alarm.  The  next  instant  half  a  dozen 
soldiers  in  the  uniform  of  Washington's  body- 
guard surged  into  the  room,  and  with  them, 
muffled  in  a  heavy  cloak,  was  General  Washing- 
ton himself. 

"  Gentlemen,  we  appear  to  have  come  too  late," 
remarked  the  commander-in-chief.  "  I  think 
that  is  the  spy  yonder."  Then  he  asked  for 
explanations,  and  Nathan  briefly  and  clearly  told 
the  whole  story. 

"  You    have    done   well,"  said  Washington. 


00  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

"  Search  that  man  at  once,"  he  added,  pointing 
to  the  prisoner. 

Barnabas  did  so,  and  speedily  produced  a 
thick  bundle  of  papers.  Washington  took  them 
eagerly,  glanced  over  them,  and  then  thrust 
them  into  his  bosom. 

"  These  were  stolen  from  a  chest  in  my  private 
room  but  half  an  hour  ago,"  he  said.  "The 
thief  entered  the  window  by  means  of  a  tree, 
and  I  suppose  the  storm  enabled  him  to  pass  the 
sentries.  Fortunately  the  loss  was  discovered  a 
few  moments  afterward,  and  before  the  snow 
had  covered  the  man's  tracks  sufficiently  to  pre- 
vent us  from  following  him.  The  importance 
and  value  of  the  papers  cannot  be  exaggerated, 
and  I  am  indeed  fortunate  to  recover  them." 

Washington  now  ordered  Abner  Wilkinson 
to  be  searched.  The  Tory  was  quite  dead,  hav- 
ing been  shot  through  the  heart,  and  in  his 
pocket  were  found  minute  plans  and  data  relat- 
ing to  the  camp,  showing  that  the  man  must 
have  made  numerous  excursions  within  the  lines. 

As  there  was  possible  danger  of  a  surprise  by 


NATHAN'S  CAREER  NEARLY  TERMINATES     89 

British  cavalry,  the  whole  party  speedily  left  the 
house,  taking  the  two  prisoners  with  them,  but 
leaving  the  body  of  the  Tory  behind.  Mawhood 
and  the  officer  refused  to  speak,  and  they  sul- 
lenly submitted  to  be  mounted  behind  a  couple 
of  the  troopers.  Barnabas  and  Nathan  trudged 
behind  the  little  procession  to  the  house  of 
Jacob  Troup,  where  they  found  Corporal  Dubbs 
and  his  men  in  a  state  of  excitement  induced 
by  the  pistol  shot.  The  other  sentries  had  come 
in,  and  the  grain  was  already  far  on  its  way  to 
camp.  An  hour  later  all  who  had  participated 
in  the  night's  adventure  were  sleeping  soundly 
in  their  quarters,  and  the  two  prisoners  were 
pacing  restlessly  up  and  down  the  narrow  con- 
fines of  the  guard-house,  with  the  spectre  of 
the  hangman's  noose  dangling  over  them. 

The  following  day  Nathan  was  summoned  to 
headquarters,  where  Washington  thanked  him 
for  the  great  service  he  had  performed  and  com- 
plimented him  highly  on  his  pluck  and  bravery. 
This  gave  the  lad  keen  pleasure,  but  it  was  MS 
nothing  compared  to  the  joy  he  felt  a  week 


90  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

later,  when  his  father  passed  the  crisis  and  be- 
gan to  recover.  His  convalescence  lasted  a  long 
time,  and  during  that  period  Nathan  did  not 
venture  to  excite  or  worry  his  father  by  telling 
him  of  the  visit  of  Mr.  Noah  Waxpenny  to  the 
Indian  Queen.  And  when  at  last  Captain  Stan- 
bury  had  entirely  recovered,  the  lad  had  come 
to  regard  the  affair  as  hardly  worth  speaking  of. 
Brief  mention  must  be  made  of  the  two  men 
captured  in  the  farm-house  of  Abner  Wilkin- 
son. The  officer  turned  out  to  be  Captain  Con- 
way,  of  the  Tory  troop  of  horse  known  as  the 
Queen's  Rangers,  and  Mawhood  was  a  private 
of  the  same  force.  Death  by  hanging  would 
certainly  have  been  their  punishment  had  they 
not  made  a  desperate  attempt  to  escape  shortly 
before  being  brought  to  trial.  Mawhood  did  suc- 
ceed in  eluding  the  guards  and  getting  out  of 
the  camp,  but  Captain  Conway  was  riddled  with 
musket-balls  and  killed  instantly. 


CHAPTEE  V 

IN    WHICH    BEGINS    A    MEMORABLE    BATTLE 

As  the  spring  months  wore  on,  bringing  sun- 
shine and  warmth  instead  of  snow  and  ice,  the 
situation  at  Valley  Forge  changed  decidedly  for 
the  better.  The  shadows  of  the  winter  were 
fading  before  the  hopes  of  freedom  promised  by 
the  fresh  campaign  soon  to  be  opened.  Most  of 
the  sick  had  recovered,  and  the  troops  fit  for 
active  service  numbered  about  fifteen  thousand. 
They  had  much  to  cheer  them,  and  the  greatest 
source  of  gratification  was  the  good  news  from 
France.  For,  early  in  February,  Benjamin 
Franklin  had  negotiated  a  treaty  with  that  na- 
tion, news  of  which  reached  the  United  States 
in  the  following  May,  and  was  promptly  ratified 
by  Congress.  And,  to  further  encourage  the 
struggling  people,  it  was  learned  that  a  French 
fleet,  commanded  by  Count  d'Estaing,  had 
already  sailed  for  Philadelphia. 

91 


92  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

Meanwhile,  on  the  llth  of  May,  Lord  Howe 
had  been  superseded  in  command  of  the  British 
army  by  Sir  Henry  Clinton,  and  it  was  gener- 
ally believed  that  the  latter  had  been  ordered 
by  the  ministry  to  evacuate  Philadelphia. 

But  that  much-desired  event  was  long  delayed. 
The  enemy  spent  weeks  in  slothful  preparation, 
and  the  middle  of  June  found  the  boats  of  the 
fleet  all  collected  and  moored  below  the  town — 
which  was  taken  as  a  pretty  sure  sign  that  the 
flight  would  be  by  water.  At  almost  any  day 
the  French  armament  might  be  expected  to  sail 
up  the  Delaware. 

But,  in  spite  of  this  danger  of  a  blockade,  the 
British  still  lingered,  to  the  satisfaction  of  Tory 
citizens  and  the  disgust  of  all  good  patriots. 
And  at  Valley  Forge,  Washington  was  patiently 
watching  and  waiting,  with  his  orders  written 
out,  his  baggage  ready  to  be  packed  at  a  mo- 
ment's notice,  and  his  troops  in  condition  to 
form  in  line  of  march  at  the  first  beat  of  the 
drum. 

It  was  past  midday  of  the  17th  of  June,  1778, 


93 

when  the  long-expected  word  came  at  last  to  the 
American  camp.  Jt  was  in  the  form  of  a  pri- 
vate dispatch,  the  tenor  of  which  was  not  at 
once  communicated  to  the  army.  But  a  confer- 
ence took  place  between  Washington  and  his 
staff,  as  a  result  of  which  a  trusty  officer  named 
Captain  McLane  left  Valley  Forge  that  evening 
under  secret  orders.  He  was  suitably  disguised 
and  well  mounted. 

The  night  was  far  advanced  when  Captain 
McLane  entered  Philadelphia,  unchallenged  by 
a  single  sentry  as  he  rode  along. 

He  found  the  town  in  a  ferment  of  excite- 
ment and  joy.  At  nine  o'clock  the  long-ex- 
pected evacuation  of  the  British  army  had 
begun.  Down  to  the  Delaware  the  troops 
marched  quietly,  regiment  by  regiment,  and 
embarked  in  small  boats.  But  instead  of  board- 
ing the  big  vessels  at  anchor,  they  crossed  the 
river  and  disembarked  on  the  Jersey  shore. 
The  retreat  was  to  be  by  land,  and  not  by  water. 

Captain  McLane  found  means  of  crossing 
with  the  enemy,  and  all  night  long,  while  the 


94  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

boats  flitted  from  shore  to  shore,  the  brave  man 
went  here  and  there  unsuspected.  He  followed 
the  lead  of  the  column  five  miles  into  the  Jer- 
sies,  to  Haddonfield,  ascertained  General  Clin- 
ton's intended  line  of  march,  and  (then  retraced 
his  steps  past  the  long  train  of  baggage,  pro- 
visions, carriages,  and  saddle-horses  that  brought 
up  the  rear  of  the  retreating  army. 

He  safely  reached  the  city  early  on  the  morn- 
ing of  the  18th — while  the  evacuation  was  still 
in  progress — and  before  ten  o'clock  he  was  back 
at  the  camp  with  the  electrifying  news.  Two 
hours  after  the  last  of  the  British  had  departed, 
Washington's  dragoons  were  riding  through  the 
streets  of  Philadelphia,  and  a  small  detachment 
under  General  Arnold  occupied  the  town. 

Before  night  the  whole  of  the  patriot  army 
was  in  motion  toward  the  Delaware,  and  the  huts 
at  Valley  Forge,  consecrated  by  the  winter's 
heroic  sufferings  and  fortitude,  were  left  to  soli- 
tude and  decay.  The  line  of  march  was  in  the 
direction  of  Trenton,  it  being  the  intention  of 
Washington  to  press  closely  on  the  rear  of  the 


A    MEMORABLE    BATTLE  95 

enemy,  and  of  the  thousands  of  American  sol- 
diers who  longed  for  a  decisive  battle,  none 
desired  it  more  ardently  than  Nathan  Stanbury 
and  his  father. 

General  Clinton  led  the  British  army  north- 
east through  the  Jersies,  his  object  being  to 
reach  the  Raritan  River  and  there  embark  his 
troops.  But  the  sandy  roads  and  oppressively 
hot  weather  made  marching  tedious  and  slow, 
and,  as  there  was  but  a  single  road,  his  train  of 
baggage-wagons,  horses  and  men  made  a  line 
nearly  twelve  miles  in  extent.  In  addition,  he 
had  to  build  bridges  and  causeways  over  the 
streams  and  marshes. 

Meanwhile  the  American  army  was  moving 
swiftly,  and  had  crossed  the  Delaware  near 
Trenton  in  several  divisions.  On  the  25th  of 
June,  learning  that  Washington  was  almost  on 
his  front,  Clinton  concluded  to  change  his  course 
rather  than  risk  a  general  action  with  his  nu- 
merous encumbrances.  So,  turning  to  the  right, 
he  followed  the  road  leading  to  Monmouth 
Court-house  and  Sandy  Hook,  intending  now  to 


96  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

embark  his  troops  at  the  latter  place  instead  of 
on  the  Raritan. 

As  yet  Washington  was  himself  disinclined 
to  risk  a  battle,  and  was  merely  trying  to  harass 
the  enemy  on  their  inarch.  The  advance 
American  forces — certain  corps  and  brigades 
under  Maxwell,  Morgan,  Scott,  Dickinson,  and 
Cadwallader — had  been  ordered  to  annoy  the 
British  on  the  rear  and  flanks.  On  June  25th, 
when  Clinton  turned  toward  Monmouth  Court- 
house, the  Americans  reached  a  place  called 
Kingston.  Here  another  council  was  held,  and 
though  General  Lee,  as  before,  was  strongly  op- 
posed to  any  interference  with  the  movements 
of  the  enemy,  Lafayette,  Green,  and  Wayne  de- 
clared in  favor  of  a  general  battle.  Washington 
was  of  the  same  mind,  and  so  he  promptly  pro- 
ceeded to  make  his  arrangements  to  that  effect. 
He  sent  a  thousand  men  forward  under  General 
Wayne  to  join  the  troops  nearest  the  enemy, 
gave  Lafayette  the  command  of  all  the  advanced 
forces,  and  himself  moved  with  the  main  body 
to  Cranberry  on  the  28th  of  June. 


A    MEMORABLE    BATTLE  97 

Early  on  the  morning  of  the  27th,  Lafayette 
reached  Euglishtown,  a  village  about  five  miles 
to  the  west  of  Mon mouth  Court-house.  The 
British  general,  being  advised  of  the  movements 
of  the  Americans,  prepared  for  battle  at  Mon- 
mouth,  where  he  had  now  arrived.  He  placed 
his  baggage  train  in  front  and  his  best  troops — 
the  grenadiers,  light  infantry,  and  chasseurs — in 
the  rear.  Then  he  encamped  near  the  Court- 
house, in  a  strong  position  that  was  secured  by 
woods  and  marshy  ground.  His  line  stretched 
a  mile  and  a  half  on  the  right  toward  Shrews- 
bury, and  three  miles  on  the  left  in  the  direction 
of  Allentown. 

Washington  heard  of  this,  and  found  it 
necessary  to  increase  the  numbers  of  his  advance 
corps.  He  sent  Lee  with  two  brigades  to  join 
Lafayette,  and  gave  him  the  command  of  the 
whole  division.  The  main  army  marched  the 
same  day  to  within  three  miles  of  Englishtown. 
Morgan  was  now  hovering  on  the  British  right, 
and  a  force  of  militia  under  Dickinson  was 
menacing  their  left.  Three  miles  beyond 
7 


98  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

Monmoutli  were  the  heights  of  Middletown, 
which  offered  a  great  advantage  to  the  enemy. 
To  prevent  them  from  obtaining  that  advantage, 
Washington  determined  to  attack  their  rear  the 
moment  they  should  attempt  to  move,  and  he 
gave  General  Lee  orders  to  that  effect.  Sir 
Henry  Clinton,  finding  a  battle  to  be  inevitable, 
was  no  less  busy,  and  the  night  of  the  27th  was 
one  of  anxiety  to  both  armies. 

The  28th  of  June,  1778,  was  Sunday.  The 
sun  rose  out  of  a  cloudless  sky,  and  not  a  breath 
of  air  was  stirring.  It  was  the  hottest  and  sul- 
triest day  of  the  year.  The  Americans  were  all 
eager  for  the  fight,  and  hopeful  of  striking  a 
decisive  blow  at  the  enemies  of  their  country. 
The  force  to  which  Nathan  and  the  Wyoming 
men  belonged  were  with  the  main  army  back 
near  Englishtown,  and  this  was  a  disappoint- 
ment to  the  lad,  since  he  feared  that  he  would 
miss  the  battle.  But  his  anxiety  was  needless, 
as  after  events  proved. 

Before  dawn  the  regiment  of  Colonel  Grayson 
and  the  brigades  of  Scott  and  Varnum  were  in 


A    MEMORABLE    BATTLE  99 

the  saddle  and  moving  toward  Monmouth  Court- 
house. General  Knyphausen,  with  a  British 
force  that  comprised  Hessians  and  Pennsylva- 
nia and  Maryland  Tories,  advanced  at  daybreak, 
followed  later  by  Sir  Henry  Clinton  with  his 
main  army.  Dickinson,  observing  the  earlier 
movement,  sent  an  express  in  haste  to  Lee  and 
the  commander-iii-chief.  Washington  at  once 
put  his  army  in  motion,  and  sent  orders  to  Gen- 
eral Lee  to  attack  the  enemy  unless  there  should 
be  a  strong  reason  to  the  contrary. 

So  Lee  pressed  forward,  supported  by  Dickin- 
son, Grayson,  and  the  brigades  of  Wayne  and 
Maxwell.  He  crossed  the  morass  by  a  causeway 
near  the  parsonage,  and  on  reaching  a  height 
was  joined  by  Lafayette  with  the  main  body  of 
the  advanced  corps.  Here  conflicting  intelli- 
gence was  received,  some  messengers  asserting 
that  the  enemy  were  in  full  retreat,  while  others 
reported  that  the  whole  British  army  was  filing 
off  to  the  right  to  attack  the  Americans. 

Satisfied  that  no  important  bodies  of  foes 
were  on  either  of  his  flanks,  Lee  marched  on 


100  IN    THE   DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

with  about  five  thousand  troops  through  a 
broken  and  heavily-wooded  country,  and  came 
to  the  verge  of  the  plain  of  Monmouth.  Seeing 
a  column  of  the  British  about  two  thousand 
strong  on  the  left,  and  taking  them  to  be  a  cov- 
ering party,  he  determined  to  try  to  cut  them 
off  from  the  main  army.  So  he  sent  Wayne 
with  artillery  and  seven  hundred  men  to  attack 
them  in  the  rear,  while  he  himself  sought  to 
gain  their  front  by  a  short  cut. 

It  was  now  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning. 
Wayne  was  about  to  descend  on  the  enemy  when 
a  body  of  the  Queen's  Dragoons  appeared  on 
the  edge  of  a  wood,  parading  as  though  about 
to  make  an  attack.  Lee,  seeing  this,  planned 
and  partly  carried  out  a  clever  ruse.  He  ordered 
his  light  horse  to  entice  the  dragoons  as  near  as 
possible,  and  then  retreat  to  Wayne's  position. 
The  dragoons,  following  the  light  horse  as  was 
expected,  were  met  with  a  hot  musketry  fire 
from  an  ambush  party  under  Colonel  Butler,  of 
Wayne's  command.  Then  they  wheeled  about 
and  galloped  off  toward  the  main  column. 


A    MEMORABLE   BATTLE  101 

Wayne  ordered  Colonel  Oswald  to  open  two 
pieces  of  artillery  upon  them,  and  he  himself 
made  a  bayonet  charge  forward  with  his  whole 
force. 

The  battle  now  seemed  about  to  begin  in  ear- 
nest, for  Wayne  and  his  command  were  fighting 
with  vigor,  and  with  good  prospect  of  success. 
He  was  therefore  greatly  chagrined  and  irritated 
when  Lee  ordered  him  to  make  only  a  feigned 
attack,  lest  he  (Lee)  should  fail  in  his  plan  to 
cut  off  the  covering  party.  But  Wayne  was  a 
true  soldier.  He  obeyed  without  questioning 
and  checked  his  troops,  hoping  that  Lee  would 
recover  what  his  untimely  order  had  lost.  But 
here  again  Wayne  was  disappointed,  for  only  a 
small  portion  of  Lee's  troops  issued  from  the 
wood  on  the  right,  and  these  were  actually  within 
cannon-shot  of  the  royal  forces. 

About  this  time  Sir  Henry  Clinton  discov- 
ered that  the  Americans  were  marching  in  force 
on  both  his  flanks,  and  with  the  hope  of  draw- 
ing them  off  by  making  an  urgent  necessity  for 
them  elsewhere,  he  faced  his  army  around  and 


102  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

prepared  to  attack  Wayne.  This  move  was 
made,  and  soon  a  large  body  of  cavalry  were 
seen  approaching.  Lafayette  discovered  this, 
and  it  suggested  so  good  a  plan  to  him  that  he 
rode  straightway  and  in  haste  to  Lee. 

"  General,"  he  cried,  "have  I  your  permission 
to  gain  the  rear  of  these  cavalry  who  are  march- 
ing against  us  ?  I  am  satisfied  that  I  can  do  so, 
and  thus  cut  them  off." 

"  Sir,  you  do  not  knew  British  soldiers,"  re- 
plied Lee.  "  We  cannot  stand  against  them. 
We  shall  be  driven  back  at  first,  and  we  must 
be  cautious." 

"Perhaps  you  are  right,  General,"  declared 
Lafayette.  "  But  British  soldiers  have  been 
beaten  before  this,  and  they  are  not  invincible. 
At  all  events,  I  wish  to  make  this  attempt." 

Lee  partly  consented,  ordering  Lafayette  to 
wheel  his  column  by  the  right,  and  gain  and  at- 
tack the  cavalry's  left.  Next  he  unaccountably 
weakened  Wayne's  detachment  on  the  left  by 
sending  three  regiments  to  the  right,  and  then 
rode  toward  Oswald's  battery  to  reconnoiter. 


A    MEMORABLE    BATTLE  103 

At  this  moment,  to  his  great  astonishment,  as 
he  afterward  declared,  Lee  saw  a  large  portion 
of  the  British  army  marching  on  the  Middle- 
town  road  toward  the  Court-house.  Apparently 
confused,  he  immediately  ordered  his  right  to 
fall  back,  and  gave  other  commands  that  vir- 
tually amounted  to  a  retreat.  Lafayette  was 
instructed  to  fall  back  to  the  Court-house,  and 
Generals  Maxwell  and  Scott,  who  were  about  to 
form  for  action  on  the  plain,  were  sent  to  the 
woods  in  their  rear. 

A  general  and  disastrous  retreat  had  now 
begun,  and  one  for  which  there  was  no  excuse, 
since  Lee  might  have  made  an  effective  stand 
in  his  advantageous  position.  The  Americans 
were  pursued  as  far  as,  the  Court-house,  where 
the  British  temporarily  halted  and  opened  fire 
with  several  batteries.  The  routed  army  pressed 
on  across  the  morass,  suffering  terribly  from 
heat,  thirst,  and  fatigue,  and  sinking  ankle-deep 
in  the  loose  and  sandy  soil.  They  reached  the 
broken  heights  of  Freehold,  and  paused  here 
for  a  brief  rest.  But  soon  the  British  forces 


104  IN    THE   DAYS    OF   WASHINGTON 

came  on,  and  Lee  resumed  his  retreat  toward 
the  Freehold  meeting-house.  The  demoralized 
troops  fled  in  great  confusion,  many  perishing 
in  the  mud  and  water  of  the  swamps,  and  others, 
dropping  over  with  the  heat,  being  trampled  to 
death  by  those  behind.  It  was  a  black  com- 
mencement to  the  battle  of  Monmouth. 

Meanwhile  Washington  had  been  pressing 
forward  in  haste,  and  with  his  right  wing  com- 
manded by  General  Greene,  and  the  left  wing 
in  charge  of  himself,  he  had  reached  the  vicin- 
ity of  the  Freehold  meeting-house  and  Mon- 
mouth Court-house.  Just  at  that  time  arrived 
a  farmer  on  a  fleet  horse,  announcing  that  Lee 
and  his  forces  were  in  full  retreat,  with  the 
enemy  in  close  pursuit.  Washington  at  once 
rode  forward  with  his  staff,  passing  and  checking 
the  flying  columns  of  troops,  until  he  met  Lee 
near  the  rear. 

"  Sir,"  he  cried,  in  tones  of  bitter  anger,  "  I 

desire  to  know  whence  arises  this  disorder  and 

• 

confusion,  and  what  is  the  reason." 

Lee  was  a  high-spirited  man,  and  being  stung 


A    MEMORABLE    BATTLE  105 

more  by  the  manner  than  the  words  of  his 
commander,  he  retorted  harshly.  A  few  sharp 
words  passed  between  the  two,  but  there  was  no 
time  for  full  explanations,  since  the  advancing 
enemy  were  within  fifteen  minutes'  march. 


CHAPTER  VI 

IN   WHICH   NATHAN    MEETS   AN   OLD    ENEMY 

WHEELING  his  horse, Washington  spurred  on 
toward  the  rear  to  avert  the  consequences  of 
Lee's  disaster  and  check  the  rout,  and  the  effect 
of  his  personal  presence  on  the  demoralized 
troops  was  speedy  and  gratifying.  Within  ten 
minutes  the  retreat  was  suspended,  the  fugitives 
were  rallying,  and  order  and  discipline  were 
visible  in  the  midst  of  the  confusion. 

Colonel  Oswald,  with  two  pieces  of  artillery, 
took  a  position  on  an  eminence,  and  by  a  well- 
directed  fire  from  his  battery,  checked  the 
pursuing  enemy.  Stewart  and  Ramsey  sup- 
ported him,  having  formed  their  troops  under 
cover  of  a  wood.  While  the  British  grenadiers 
were  pouring  their  deadly  volleys  into  the  still 
broken  ranks  of  the  Americans,  Washington 
rode  fearlessly  to  and  fro  in  the  face  of  the  leaden 
storm,  issuing  order  after  order.  The  whole  of 
106 


NATHAN  MEETS  AN  OLD  ENEMY     107 

Lee's  army,  so  shortly  before  on  the  verge  of 
destruction,  was  soon  drawn  up  in  battle  array, 
with  a  bold  and  well-arranged  front.  Having 
thus  saved  the  day,  Washington  rode  back  to 
General  Lee. 

"  Will  you  command  in  that  place,  sir  ?"  he 
said  curtly,  pointing  to  the  reformed  division. 

"  I  will,"  Lee  answered,  eagerly. 

"  Then  I  expect  you  to  check  the  enemy  at 
once." 

"Your  command  shall  be  obeyed,"  assured 
Lee,  "  and  I  will  not  be  the  first  to  leave  the 
field." 

Washington  hurried  further  back  to  the  main 
army,  and  lost  no  time  in  forming  it  in  battle 
order  on  the  ridge  that  rose  above  the  western 
side  of  the  morass.  Meanwhile  General  Lee 
partly  atoned  for  his  fault  by  a  display  of  skill 
and  courage  in  obedience  to  his  commander's 
orders.  While  a  hot  cannonade  was  going  on 
between  the  artillery  of  both  forces,  he  gallantly 
repulsed  a  troop  of  royal  light  horse  thnt 
charged  upon  the  right  of  his  division.  Never- 


108  IN    THE    DAVS    OF    WASHINGTON 

tlieless  the  enemy  were  too  strong  to  be  held  in 
check  more  than  temporarily,  and  before  long 
the  greater  part  of  the  Americans  were  obliged 
to  give  way  and  fall  back  toward  Washington. 

Stretching  across  the  open  field  in  front  of 
the  causeway  over  the  morass  was  a  hedgerow, 
and  here  the  conflict  raged  for  some  little  time, 
the  place  being  held  stoutly  by  Livingston's 
regiment  and  Varnurn's  brigade,  with  a  battery 
of  artillery.  But  their  ranks  were  finally  broken 
by  a  desperate  bayonet  charge  from  the  British 
cavalry  and  infantry,  and  Varnum  and  Living- 
ston, with  the  artillery,  retreated  across  the 
morass,  their  rear  effectually  protected  by 
Colonel  Ogden  and  his  men,  who  held  a  wood 
near  the  causeway.  Lee  was  the  last  to  leave 
the  field,  bringing  Ogden's  corps  off  with  him, 
and  after  forming  the  whole  of  his  division  in 
good  order  on  the  hillside  west  of  the  morass, 
he  reported  to  Washington  for  further  instruc- 
tions. 

Lee's  forces  had  thus  far  borne  the  brunt  of 
the  day's  fighting,  so  Washington  considerately 


NATHAN  MEETS  AN  OLD  ENEMY     109 

ordered  them  to  the  rear  in  the  direction  of 
Englishtown,  while  he  himself  prepared  to  en- 
gage the  enemy  with  the  fresh  and  main  army. 
His  left  was  commanded  by  Lord  Stirling,  and 
the  right  by  General  Greene.  Wayne  was  on 
an  eminence  in  an  orchard  near  the  parsonage, 
while  on  his  right  a  battery  of  artillery  occupied 
the  crest  of  Comb's  Hill. 

The  battle  now  began  in  earnest,  the  enemy 
being  drawn  up  in  force  on  the  hills  and  in  the 
fields  across  the  morass,  and  having  possession 
of  the  lost  hedgerow.  They  were  repulsed  from 
the  American  left,  and  on  trying  to  turn  the 
right  flank  they  were  driven  back  by  Knox's 
battery,  supported  by  General  Greene.  Mean- 
while Wayne  kept  up  a  brisk  fire  on  the  British 
centre,  and  repeatedly  hurled  back  the  royal 
grenadiers,  who  several  times  advanced  upon 
him  from  the  hedgerow. 

The  commander  of  the  grenadiers,  Colonel 
Monckton,  determined  to  make  a  last  attempt  to 
drive  Wayne  from  his  position.  So  he  formed 
his  men  in  solid  column,  and  advanced  anew 


110  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

with  the  regularity  of  a  corps  011  parade. 
Wayne's  troops  were  partly  sheltered  by  a  barn, 
and  they  reserved  their  fire  until  the  enemy 
were  very  close.  Monckton  was  about  to  give 
the  order  to  charge,  sword  in  hand,  when  the 
terrible  volley  was  poured  forth.  He  himself 
was  killed  instantly,  and  most  of  the  British 
officers  fell  with  him.  A  desperate  hand-to- 
hand  fight  ensued,  and  the  survivors  of  the 
grenadiers  finally  fled  in  confusion,  leaving  the 
body  of  their  commander  behind.  Thus  the 
conflict  raged  from  point  to  point,  while  the 
sultry  day  grew  older,  and  the  roar  of  cannons 
and  muskets  echoed  far  over  the  peaceful  Jersey 
countryside. 

And  what  was  Nathan  Stanbury  doing  all 
this  time  ?  We  shall  see.  Behind  the  American 
lines  was  the  meeting-house,  and  in  front,  down 
the  hill  toward  the  swamp  that  separated  the 
two  armies,  were  the  parsonage  and  barn,  an 
orchard,  and  a  bit  of  woods.  These  places  of 
shelter  bristled  with  Washington's  skirmishers. 
From  behind  trees  and  fences,  from  the  loop- 


NATHAN  MEETS  AN  OLD  ENEMY     111 

holes  and  crevices  of  the  barn,  they  poured  a 
hot  and  steady  fire  on  the  red-coats. 

The  Pennsylvania  regiment  to  which  the 
Wyoming  troops  belonged,  occupied  the  strip  of 
woods  near  the  morass.  Nathan  was  crouched 
behind  a  stump,  and  next  to  him  was  Barnabas 
Otter.  Captain  Stanbury  was  twenty  feet  away, 
and  from  time  to  time  he  looked  anxiously 
around  to  see  that  his  boy  was  all  right.  Over- 
head bullets  whistled,  sending  down  fluttering 
showers  of  leaves  and  twigs.  Shells  went 
screeching  and  hissing  by,  some  bursting  far 
off,  others  exploding  close  at  hand  with  a  deaf- 
ening report.  But  Nathan  kept  his  place  like 
an  old  soldier,  steadily  loading  and  firing,  and 
shifting  the  hot  breech  of  his  musket  from 
hand  to  hand. 

At  first  the  lad  was  nervous  under  fire,  but 
that  feeling  had  long  since  passed  away.  His 
head  was  cool  and  his  nerves  steady.  He  felt 
that  he  had  to  do  his  part  in  winning  the  battle, 
and  he  regretted  that  his  post  of  duty  was  with 
the  skirmishers  instead  of  on  one  of  the  flanks 


112  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

of  the  main  army.  Men  died  around  him  by 
shot  and  shell,  but  these  dreadful  sights  only 
made  his  hand  steadier  and  his  aim  truer. 

"  Be  careful,  boy,"  his  father  called  to  him. 
"Keep  your  head  down." 

"All  right,  sir,"  Nathan  shouted  back,  "  but 
I've  got  to  see  to  fire." 

"Aim  low,  lad,"  muttered  old  Barnabas  Otter. 
"  You  know  it's  the  •  natural  tendency  of  a 
musket  to  carry  high." 

"And  who  taught  me  that  but  yourself,  Bar- 
nabas?" retorted  Nathan.  "Have  you  forgot- 
ten all  the  fat  deer  I  killed  up  on  the  Susque- 
hanna  ?  I'm  shooting  just  as  carefully  now." 

He  went  on  loading  and  firing,  peering  this 
way  and  that  through  the  smoke  to  get  a 
glimpse  of  the  red-coats.  Far  off  he  saw  officers 
galloping  to  and  fro,  and  he  wondered  if  one  of 
them  could  be  Godfrey  Spencer.  He  hoped  the 
cruel  fortune  of  war  would  not  bring  them 
together  on  the  battle-field. 

So,  for  hour  after  hour  through  the  long  after- 
noon, the  fight  went  on,  the  skirmishers  bravely 


NATHAN  MEETS  AN  OLD  ENEMY     113 

holding  their  position.  To  right  and  left,  where 
the  morass  ended/there  was  a  constant  panorama 
of  moving  cavalry,  infantry  and  guns.  The 
roar  of  battle  echoed  miles  away,  and  the  smoke 
floated  overhead  on  the  still  air.  The  heat  was 
terrific,  and  men  dropped,  fainting  and  ex- 
hausted, to  the  ground.  Not  since  Bunker  Hill 
had  the  American  army  shown  such  desperate 
valor.  In  vain  Clinton  thundered  and  stormed 
at  the  centre.  In  vain  did  Lord  Cornwallis 
assail  Sterling's  invincible  left  wing. 

The  approach  of  evening  found  both  armies 
still  holding  their  ground,  and  now  a  large  force 
of  the  British  advanced  on  the  American  right 
wing.  But  a  spare  battery  hastened  to  that 
quarter,  unlimbered  their  guns,  and  poured  into 
the  enemy  such  a  storm  of  shot  and  shell  as 
drove  them  back  in  confusion. 

Part  of  an  infantry  brigade — mostly  grena- 
diers— passed  near  the  strip  of  woods.  The 
skirmishers  had  just  turned  their  fire  in  this 
direction  when  a  mounted  officer  arrived  with 
orders  to  charge  on  the  enemy's  flank.  With 
8 


114  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

ringing  cheers  the  Pennsylvania  regiment 
poured  out  from  the  trees,  Captain  Stanbury's 
Wyoming  company  in  front,'  and  a  double-quick 
trot  brought  them  to  close  quarters  with  the  rear 
of  the  British. 

The  grenadiers  doggedly  kept  up  the  retreat, 
firing  as  they  went,  and  many  fell  on  both  sides. 
Most  of  the  enemy's  officers  were  far  in  front, 
and  Nathan  felt  sure  that  he  recognized  God- 
frey's figure  at  a  distance. 

But  one  mounted  officer,  seeing  what  was 
taking  place,  pluckily  galloped  back  to  the  rear 
to  try  to  rally  the  broken  lines.  He  ventured 
too  far,  and  a  shot  brought  horse  and  rider  to 
the  ground.  Before  his  own  men  could  rescue 
him,  the  front  line  of  the  Americans  was  nearly 
at  the  spot. 

Barnabas  and  Nathan  had  seen  the  occur- 
rence, and  they  ran  up  to  the  officer  just  as  he 
struggled  to  his  feet  from  under  the  body  of  his 
horse.  At  the  first  glance  Nathan  recognized 
Major  Langdon,  and  he  was  quick  to  observe  the 
half  healed  scar  on  his  left  wrist. 


SURRENDER!"  YELLED  BARNABAS 


NATHAN  MEETS  AN  OLD  ENEMY     115 

"  Surrender !"  yelled  Barnabas,  presenting  his 
musket  at  the  officer's  head. 

Major  Langdon  glanced  around,  bit  his  lip 
passionately,  and  then  dropped  his  half-drawn 
sword  into  its  scabbard. 

"  The  fortune  of  war  has  made  me  your  pris- 
oner," he  said  proudly ;  "  I  am  an  officer  and  a 
gentleman,  and  I  demand  proper  treatment." 

"  You  Britishers  never  were  backward  about 
demanding  "  snorted  Barnabas.  "  Fall  to  the 
rear  now." 

Though  the  bullets  were  flying  thickly  Major 
Langdon  showed  no  inclination  to  move,  he  had 
suddenly  seen  and  recognized  Nathan,  and  there 
was  a  strange  look  of  hatred  on  his  deeply 
flushed  face  as  he  stared  at  the  lad.  Nathan 
returned  the  officer's  piercing  gaze  for  an  in- 
stant, and  then,  hearing  a  couple  of  loud  shouts 
to  one  side,  he  looked  around  in  time  to  see  his 
father  toss  up  his  arms  and  fall. 

The  retreating  grenadiers  were  still  being 
hotly  pressed,  both  sides  firing  steadily,  but 
half  a  dozen  men  of  Captain  Stanbury's  com- 


116  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

pany  at  once  ran  to  him.  He  was  lying  on  his 
back,  deathly  pale,  and  with  blood  oozing  from 
the  left  breast  of  his  coat. 

He  lifted  himself  on  one  elbow  as  Nathan 
reached  him  and  sank  tearfully  down  at  his 
side. 

"  I  am  wounded,  my  boy — mortally  wounded," 
lie  gasped,  "but  before  I  die  I  have -a  secret  to 
tell  you — a  secret  that  will  change  your  whole 
life.  Listen,  while  I  have  breath  to  speak." 


CHAPTER  VII 

IN    WHICH    A    BUTTON    BETRAYS    ITS    OWNER 

"  No,  no,  you  will  not  die,  father,"  cried 
Nathan.  "  It  may  not  be  a  mortal  wound. 
Where  are  you  hit  ?"  He  looked  wildly  around, 
wringing  his  hands.  "  Can't  something  be 
done?"  he  added.  "Bring  water  from  the 
swamp,  or  send  for  a  surgeon." 

"  I'm  afraid  it's  no  use,  lad,"  said  the  lieu- 
tenant of  the  company.  "  If  it  was  possible  to 
help  him — " 

"No,  I'm  past  human  aid,"  groaned  the 
wounded  man.  "  My  time  has  come,  and  I  must 
answer  the  call.  I'm  shot  in  the  breast,  and 
my  strength  is  nearly  spent.  Compose  yourself, 
dear  boy,  and  listen  to  me.  Remember,  it  may 
soon  be  too  late." 

Nathan  forced  back  the  tears,  and  with  a 
white,  rigid  face,  he  bent  nearer  his  dying 

117 


118  IN   THE   DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

parent.  "  Speak,  father,"  he  replied,  huskily. 
"  I  am  listening." 

Captain  Stanbury  nodded.  "  There  are  papers 
buried  under  the  floor  of  my  cabin  up  at  Wyom- 
ing," he  said  in  a  voice  that  was  broken  with 
pain.  "  I  have  kept  them  all  these  years — for 
you.  Get  them,  Nathan,  and  guard  them  care- 
fully. You  little  know — how  important  they 
are." 

"Yes,  I  will  get  them,  father,"  promised 
Nathan. 

"  Barnabas  will  help  you,  lad.  He  is  a  trusty 
old  friend — and  neighbor." 

"  You  kin  count  on  me,  Captain,"  declared 
Barnabas,  as  he  wiped  a  tear  from  his  eye  with 
the  palm  of  his  horny  hand.  "An'  what  are 
you  doin'  here,  Mister  Redcoat  ?"  he  added 
sharply. 

The  last  remark  was  addressed  to  Major 
Langdon.  He  had  pushed  into  the  group  un- 
invited, and  heard  the  American  officer's  words 
to  his  son.  Now,  as  he  peeped  furtively  at  the 
wounded  man  from  one  side,  his  face  was  pale 


A    BUTTON    BETRAYS   ITS   OWNER  119 

and  bloodless  under  its  bronzed  skin,  and  in  his 
black  eyes  was  a  strange  and  half-triumphant 
expression. 

"  Have  you  a  prisoner  there  ?"  asked  Captain 
Stanbury,  catching  a  glimpse  of  the  red  uni- 
form. "  See  that  he  is  well  treated,  men.  Oh, 
this  pain !"  he  added,  grasping  at  his  breast. 
"  Nathan — don't  forget — the  papers — they  con- 
tain the  secret — and  the  proofs  of — "  His  head 
dropped  back  and  his  eyes  closed,  the  secret 
that  had  been  on  his  lips  still  untold. 

Was  the  brave  officer  living  or  dead  ?  There 
was  no  time  to  tell.  As  Nathan  clasped  his 
father's  hands  in  a  passion  of  grief,  the  strag- 
gling musketry-fire  in  front  suddenly  ceased, 
and  back  in  full  flight  poured  the  Pennsylvania 
troops.  On  their  right  flank,  sweeping  along 
under  the  gathering  shades  of  evening  to  cover 
the  retreat  of  the  British  brigade,  came  a  com- 
pact line  of  dragoons.  A  dozen  voices  yelled 
at  Nathan,  but  he  only  shook  his  head. 

"  Take  my  father  along,"  he  cried,  "  and  I 
will  go." 


120  IN   THE   DAYS    OF   WASHINGTON 

Crack  !  crack  !  crack  ! — the  rear  ranks  of  the 
grenadiers  had  turned  and  were  firing.  The 
dragoons  were  galloping  closer.  A  ball  tore 
the  lad's  cap  from  his  head,  and  he  sprang  to 
his  feet,  staring  around  him  undecidedly.  Then 
Barnabas  Otter  and  Corporal  Dubbs  grasped 
him  by  each  arm,  and  in  spite  of  protest  they 
dragged  him  rapidly  along  with  the  retreating 
regiment.  In  the  rout  Major  Langdon  was  for- 
gotten, and  he  seized  the  opportunity  to  drop 
into  a  clump  of  bushes,  where  he  lay  unseen 
until  his  own  men  came  up. 

The  dragoons  continued  the  pursuit  almost 
to  the  edge  of  the  woods,  and  there  a  hot 
fire  from  the  rallied  skirmishers,  and  a  few 
shells  from  Knox's  guns  on  the  hillside, 
drove  them  back  with  severe  loss  to  the  British 
lines. 

Night  was  now  closing  in,  and  with  darkness 
the  battle  ended.  The  British  had  lost  nearly 
a  thousand ;  the  Americans  less  than  three  hun- 
dred. But  Washington  was  not  satisfied.  He 
issued  orders  to  resume  the  attack  at  daylight, 


A   BUTTON    BETRAYS   ITS   OWNER  121 

and  after  eating  supper  in  ranks  the  weary 
troops  slept  upon  their  arms. 

For  Nathan  the  joy  of  victory  was  swallowed 
up  in  bitter  grief.  After  the  moon  rose,  with  Bar- 
nabas Otter  and  a  few  other  faithful  comrades, 
he  ventured  out  from  the  woods  to  recover  his 
father's  body.  But  it  could  not  be  found, 
though  the  spot  where  he  had  fallen  was  easily 
located.  All  around  were  dead  and  wounded, 
British  and  American,  but  no  sign  of  Captain 
Stanbury. 

"  It's  no  use  to  look,"  said  Nathan.  "  My 
father  is  not  dead.  He  is  alive,  and  a  prisoner 
in  the  hands  of  the  enemy." 

"  What  makes  you  think  so  ?"  asked  Barnabas. 

"  Because  the  British  have  left  their  own  dead 
on  the  field,"  was  the  reply.  "  Would  they 
have  carried  off  an  American  officer,  unless  he 
was  alive?" 

"  True  fur  that,  lad,"  said  Barnabas,  "  but 
it's  a  mighty  queer  disappearance  just  the  same." 
His  brow  knitted  as  he  remembered  the  strange 
and  evil  look  on  Major  Langdon's  face  while 


122  IN    THE    DAYS    OF   WASHINGTON 

he  watched  Captain  Stanbury.  "  I  wish  that 
stuck-up  British  officer  hadn't  slipped  away," 
he  added  angrily,  little  dreaming,  as  he  spoke 
the  words,  of  what  the  major's  escape  was  to 
cost  himself  and  others. 

"  We'd  better  be  going  back,  my  lad,"  said 
Corporal  Dubbs.  "  Your  father  will  be  ex- 
changed one  of  these  days,  if  he  is  alive ;  and 
I  don't  doubt  but  he  is.  It's  my  belief  the  ball 
glanced  from  his  ribs,  or  went  in  a  bit  sidewise, 
and  whichever  it  was  the  pain  and  shock  would 
be  enough  to  make  him  faint." 

Nathan  brightened  up  at  this  opinion,  and 
his  mood  was  cheerful  as  he  trudged  back  to 
the  lines  with  the  search  party. 

"  What  can  those  papers  contain  ?"  he  asked 
himself.  "  I  suppose  they  will  reveal  the  secret 
of  my  father's  early  life,  of  which  he  would 
never  speak.  I  will  get  them  at  the  first  chance, 
but  I  will  never  open  them  so  long  as  there  is  a 
possibility  of  my  father  being  alive.  A  dozen 
times  in  the  past  week  I  was  tempted  to  tell  him 
of  the  queer  chap  who  inquired  for  him  at  the 


A    BUTTON   BETRAYS    ITS   OWNER  123 

Indian  Queen.  I  wish  now  I  had  done  so,  but 
it  is  too  late  for  regrets." 

Nathan's  sleep  that  night  was  peaceful,  but 
he  awoke  in  the  morning  to  share  a  great  dis- 
appointment with  the  whole  army.  Under  cover 
of  darkness,  the  British  had  stolen  off,  cavalry, 
infantry,  and  batteries.  They  were  already 
miles  on  the  march  to  Middletown — too  far 
away  to  be  overtaken. 

This  discovery  was  followed  immediately  by 
a  piece  of  news  that  proved  of  the  deepest  inter- 
est to  Nathan  and  his  friends.  t  A  courier  rode 
into  camp  with  a  letter  for  Washington  from  the 
Board  of  War.  It  appeared  that  messengers 
had  lately  been  sent  to  the  Board  by  the  Wyo- 
ming settlers,  stating  that  their  peaceful  valley 
was  threatened  by  the  invasion  of  a  large  force 
of  Tories  and  Seneca  Indians  under  Colonel 
John  Butler ;  that  they  were  too  few  in  number 
to  hold  their  scattered  forts  with  any  hope  of 
success,  and  begging  for  the  immediate  return 
of  their  able-bodied  men  who  were  serving 
in  the  American  army.  The  letter  concluded 


124  IN    THE   DAYS    OF   WASHINGTON 

by    urging   that    their   request   should   be    ac- 
ceded to. 

Washington  lost  not  an  hour's  time,  realizing 
that  the  intended  attack  was  prompted  by  the 
knowledge  that  the  greater  part  of  the  fighting 
men  of  the  settlements  were  absent,  and  that  it 
might  even  now  be  too  late  to  save  the  almost 
defenseless  women  and  children  from  Torv  bul- 

«/ 

lets  and  Indian  tomahawks. 

Ammunition  and  arms  were  distributed  to  the 
Wyoming  men,  and  ere  the  sun  was  well  up  the 
little  band — numbering  less  than  ten-score — 
had  started  on  their  long  march  of  nearly  one 
hundred  and  fifty  miles  to  the  northwest,  eager 
to  s'ave  families  and  friends  from  massacre. 

Nathan  and  Barnabas  were  naturally  of  the 
party,  and  while  they  shared  the  fears  and  re- 
solves of  the  others,  they  were  also  determined 
to  procure  the  papers  that  were  buried  under 
Captain  Stanbury's  cabin — the  success  of  which 
mission  depended  on  their  reaching  the  valley 
before  it  should  be  seized  and  occupied  by  the 
enemy.  General  Washington  had  promised  to 


A    BUTTON    BETRAYS    ITS   OWNER  125 

do  all  in  his  power  to  procure  the  exchange  .of 
Nathan's  father — if  he  was  still  alive — and  this 
enabled  the  lad  to  set  out  on  his  journey  with  a 
comparatively  light  heart. 

Barnabas  Otter  was  a  product  of  the  early  days 
of  Pennsylvania  colonization.  One  of  the  first 
settlers  in  the  Wyoming  Valley,  his  bravery  and 
sterling  qualities  had  there  gained  for  him  the 
honest  liking  of  his  neighbors.  He  was  now 
nearly  sixty  years  old,  lean  and  rugged,  with  a 
physique  like  iron  and  limbs  that  never  tired. 
He  was  a  master  of  woodcraft,  as  many  a  wary 
Indian  had  learned,  and  his  aim  rarely  missed. 
With  the  fearlessness  of  a  lion  and  the  stealth 
of  a  panther,  he  combined  the  vision  of  a  hawk 
and  the  hearing  of  a  deer.  Altogether,  he  was 
such  a  friend  as  Nathan  might  well  count  worth 
having. 

Many  of  the  Wyoming  men  were  weak  and 
exhausted,  and  though  the  march  was  kept  up 
at  a  fairly  good  speed,  it  was  not  fast  enough  to 
suit  Barnabas.  So,  at  noon  of  the  third  day, 
July  1st,  when  the  party  had  halted  for  a  brief 


126  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

rest  in  the  lonely  country,  miles  to  the  northwest 
of  Trenton,  the  old  woodsman  suggested  that  him- 
self and  half  a  dozen  others — naming  those  most 
capable  of  speed  and  endurance — should  push  on 
in  advance  of  the  main  band.  He  urged  as  a  rea- 
son the  necessity  for  letting  their  imperiled 
friends  know  that  aid  was  on  the  way,  so  that 
they  might  hold  out  with  better  spirit.  The 
possession  of  Captain  Stanbury's  papers  was 
purely  a  minor  reason  with  Barnabas,  as  he 
frankly  admitted  to  Nathan.  "  The  first  object 
of  the  journey  is  to  save  the  settlements,  lad," 
he  said ;  "  but  of  course  we'll  dig  up  these 
papers  as  soon  as  we  git  a  chance." 

The  officers  commanding  the  troops  promptly 
recognized  the  wisdom  of  the  suggested  course. 
Barnabas  chose  Nathan  —  whose  wind  and 
strength  well  fitted  .him  for  the  purpose — and 
five  brave  and  hardy  men  of  his  own  company. 
They  started  at  once,  taking  plenty  of  ammuni- 
tion and  supplies  for  three  days,  and  were  a  mile 
on  their  way  when  the  main  body  which  they 
left  behind,  began  the  afternoon's  march. 


A    BUTTOX    BETRAYS    ITS    OWNER  127 

The  region  stretching  northwest  to  the  Sus- 
quehanna  at  Wilkesbarre  was  wild  and  lonely, 
but  Barnabas  knew  every  foot  of  the  way.  He 
avoided  the  circuitous  bridle-road,  and  led  the 
party  by  narrow  and  direct  trails  of  his  own 
choosing  —  over  rugged  and  dismal  mountain 
passes,  through  forests  where  deer  and  bear,  tur- 
keys and  pheasants  abounded,  and  across  streams 
that  teemed  with  fish. 

By  the  aid  of  an  early  moon  they  traveled 
until  ten  o'clock  that  night,  and  after  sleeping 
soundly  in  the  woods,  and  without  camp-fires, 
they  resumed  their  march  at  daybreak.  About 
the  middle  of  the  morning,  coming  to  an  open 
glade  by  a  spring,  they  made  a  startling  discov- 
ery. Here  a  party  of  horsemen  had  plainly 
spent  the  previous  night.  The  ground  was  trod- 
den by  hoofs  and  footmarks.  The  ashes  of  two 
fires  were  still  warm,  and  close  by  were  heaps 
of  pine-boughs  that  had  served  for  bedding. 

"  Who  can  they  have  been  ?"  asked  Nathan. 

"  I  can't  guess,  lad,"  replied  Barnabas,  shak- 
ing his  head,  "  an'  it's  hard  to  say  where  they're 


128  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

bound  for.  They  ain't  been  gone  long,  an'  from 
the  looks  of  things  they  numbered  nine  or  ten. 
We  must  have  crossed  their  trail  somewhere's 
back  without  seem'  it.  From  here,"  stepping 
forward  and  pointing  to  the  trodden  grass,  "  they 
went  almost  due  north.  I  reckon  they're  strik- 
ing for  the  bridle-road  yonder,  which  runs  sort 
of  parallel  with  the  course  we're  making — " 

He  stopped  suddenly  as  he  spied  a  glittering 
object  at  his  feet :  "A  Britisher's  spur  !"  he  ex- 
claimed, picking  it  up.  "An'  the  pattern  the 
dragoons  wear.  What  on  earth  does  this  mean  ?" 

"  It  means  a  squad  of  the  enemy's  cavalry, 
Barnabas,"  declared  Evan  Jones. 

"I  believe  you,  man,"  said  Barnabas,  "who 
else  but  the  cussed  British  would  have  cut  limbs 
for  bedding  ?  An'  the  camp-fires  show  that  they 
didn't  reckon  on  any  other  travelers  bein'  in  the 
neighborhood.  I'm  clean  beat  to  know — " 

"  Here's  something  else,"  interrupted  Nathan, 
handing  Barnabas  a  large  horn  button  of  an 
odd  color. 

"'The  old  man  looked  at  it  intently.     His 


A    BUTTON    BETRAYS    ITS    OWNER  129 

eyes  flashed,  and  his  teeth  showed  behind  his 
parted  lips.  "  Simon  Glass !"  he  cried. 

"  Simon  Glass  ?"  echoed  three  or  four  voices. 

"Aye,  Simon  Glass,  men,"  repeated  Barna- 
bas. "  I'll  swear  to  this  button.  It  came  off 
his  buckskin  coat,  an'  the  inhuman  fiend  lost  it 
here  hisself." 

"  I've  heard  of  Simon  Glass,"  Nathan  said 
curiously.  "  Who  is  he  ?" 

"  You  don't  want  to  meet  him,  lad,"  Barna- 
bas answered  grimly.  "  If  ever  there  was  a 
devil  in  human  shape  he's  that  same.  He's  a 
little  squatty  man,  with  one  eye  out ;  but  the 
other's  worth  half  a  dozen.  An'  his  face  is  a 
criss-cross  of  knife-scars. 

"  There  ain't  any  crime  too  bad  for  the 
wretch,"  Barnabas  continued  earnestly.  "  Until 
eight  years  back  he  lived  about  Wyoming,  an' 
every  one  was  afraid  of  him.  He  shot  two  men 
what  crossed  him,  an'  robbed  an'  murdered 
another.  Then  he  had  to  light  out,  an'  the 
next  heard  of  him  was  that  he'd  killed  a  man 
an'  woman  up  at  Niagara.  When  the  war 
9 


130  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

begun  he  turned  Tory  an'  joined  the  British, 
an'  since  then  they  say  he's  killed  a  heap  of 
Americans  in  cold  blood.  I  have  a  score  agin 
him,  an'  I  won't  forget  it.  An'  as  for  this  old 
buckskin  coat — why,  he's  been  wearin'  it  steady 
for  fifteen  years,  an'  he  wore  it  on  this  very  spot 
last  night.  I  know  the  buttons." 

"  What  can  he  be  doing  here  ?"  asked  a 
Scotchman  named  Collum  McNicol. 

"  He  may  have  some  bloody  work  of  his  own 
on  hand,"  replied  Barnabas,  "but  it's  more 
likely  he's  been  hired  to  lead  these  dragoons  up 
to  join  Butler's  forces  at  Wyoming.  An'  yet  it 
ain't  natural  for  such  a  little  handful  of  British 
to  march  a  hundred  and  fifty  miles  up  country 
from  Clinton's  army.  Well,  it's  no  use  guessin'. 
We  can't  overtake  the  party,  seein'  they're 
mounted,  and  p'raps  it's  just  as  well.  But  if  we 
do  run  across  'em — along  the  way  or  up  at 
Wyoming,  I'll  have  a  bullet  ready  for  Simon 
Glass.  We've  fooled  too  long,  men — march  on." 

Rapidly,  and  with  untiring  speed,  the  little 
band  of  seven  filed  on  through  the  forest  paths, 


A    BUTTON    BETRAYS    ITS    OWNER  131 

while  the  sun  crept  from  horizon  to  horizon. 
Barnabas  was  in  a  sober  and  thoughtful  mood, 
and  his  companions  could  not  shake  off  a  feeling 
of  impending  ill.  Brave  men  though  they  were, 
the  presence  of  Simon  Glass  in  the  vicinity  was 
enough  to  unsteady  their  nerves.  Eyes  were 
keen  and  ears  alert  as  they  advanced. 

About  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  footsteps 
were  heard  in  front,  and  down  dropped  every 
man  to  cover.  Seven  musket  barrels  were  in 
line  with  the  stranger  as  he  came  in  sight  among 
the  trees — a  bearded  settler  in  gray  homespun. 

"  Hooray  !  Luke  Shippen !"  cried  Barnabas, 
jumping  up,  and  soon  the  whole  party  were 
shaking  hands  with  an  old  friend  and  neighbor. 

"Where's  the  rest  of  the  troops?"  was  the 
new-comer's  first  question.  "  I've  come  to  hurry 
them  up." 

"  Are  they  needed  sorely  ?"  asked  Barnabas. 

"  Aye,  men,"  Shippen  replied.  "  When  I  left 
Wilkesbarre  night  afore  last  Colonel  John  But- 
ler was  up  above  the  valley  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Lackawanna,  with  a  force  of  Tories  and  Indians 


132  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

from  Canada.  He's  holding  off  for  reinforce- 
ments, but  they  may  come  any  time.  Our  peo- 
ple are  in  the  forts,  but  they  won't  be  able  to 
offer  much  resistance." 

"  God  help  them !"  muttered  Barnabas. 
"  Push  on,  Luke.  You'll  find  the  Wyoming 
troops  half  a  day's  march  behind.  Bid  them 
travel  with  all  haste.  Meanwhile,  we'll  let  no 
grass  grow  under  our  feet." 

"  I'll  trust  you  for  that,  man.     I'm  off." 
"  Wait,"  added  Barnabas.  "  You  met  none  on 
the  way,  Luke  ?" 

"  Not  a  soul.     Why  do  you  ask  ?" 
"  No  matter,"  said  Barnabas.     "  Good-bye." 
"  Good-bye,  comrade,"   replied   Shippen,  and 
his   long   strides   quickly  carried  him   out   of 
sight. 

"  Now  for  a  hard  march,"  said  Barnabas  to 
his  men,  "and  God  grant  we  arrive  in  time. 
We  are  sorely  needed,  few  as  we  are." 

Twilight  came,  and  a  brief  interval  of  dark- 
ness, and  then  the  glow  of  the  rising  moon.  For 
mile  after  mile  the  little  band  pressed  on,  heed- 


A    BUTTON   BETRAYS   ITS    OWNER  133 

less  of  hunger  and  weariness,  and  it  was  close 
to  midnight  when  their  leader  halted  them  on  a 
far-stretching  plateau  high  up  among  the  moun- 
tains, sparsely  timbered  with  pine  and  oak. 

"  Here  we'll  spend  what  little  of  the  night  is 
left,  bein'  as  we're  all  done  out,"  declared  Bar- 
nabas. "  I  know  the  spot.  Wyoming  is  but 
six  or  eight  miles  off,  an'  we'll  make  it  afore  to- 
morrow noon.  Now  for  supper  an'  rest." 

Rations  were  served  out  and  eaten,  and  then 
Barnabas  divided  the  night  into  three  watches 
and  assigned  the  men  to  duty.  Reuben  At- 
wood's  turn  came  first,  and  the  soft  step  of  the 
sentry  was  the  last  sound  the  weary  men  heard 
as  they  fell  asleep  on  the  fragrant  pine  needles. 

Nathan  slumbered  for  hours,  too  fatigued 
even  to  dream,  and  then  he  suddenly  opened  his 
eyes  and  sat  up,  barely  able  to  repress  a  cry.  A 
small  snake  glided  from  his  side,  and  he  knew 
that  the  cold  touch  of  the  reptile  on  his  hand 
had  wakened  him. 

His  companions  were  sleeping  around  him, 
but  he  saw  nothing  of  the  sentry.  Looking 


134  IX    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

•* 

further  his  eyes  rested  on  an  open  glade,  bathed 
in  moonlight,  that  was  twenty  feet  away  among 
the  trees.  Cold  perspiration  started  on  his  brow, 
and  he  trembled  from  head  to  foot.  His  breath 
came  quick  and  hard.  Was  it  a  real  or  a 
ghostly  visitant — that  slim  figure  standing  in 
the  centre  of  the  glade;  that  familiar  face 
staring  toward  him,  with  its  every  feature  clear 
in  the  moon's  silver  glow  ? 


CHAPTER  VIII 

IN  WHICH  SIMON   GLASS   MAKES  A  VERY  STRANGE 
REMARK 

LITTLE  wonder  that  the  lad  shivered ;  that  cold 
sweat  started  on  cheeks  and  brow  ;  that,  at  first, 
he  knew  not  whether  he  was  awake  or  dream- 
ing !  For  the  face  in  the  moonlight  was  God- 
frey Spencer's,  and  so  were  the  step  and  figure  as 
the  intruder  crept  stealthily  nearer. 

The  camp  was  in  deep  shadow,  and  Nathan 
himself  could  not  be  seen.  For  a  few  seconds 
he  watched  and  trembled  in  mute  horror,  unable 
to  utter  a  sound.  "  I  am  not  asleep,"  he  decided, 
feeling  the  night  breeze  on  his  hot  temples. 
"Am  I  going  mad?  That  can't  be  Godfrey. 
Yes,  it  is—" 

Just  then  the  spell  was  broken  by  the  snap 
of  a  dry  twig  under  the  supposed  Godfrey's 
tread.  He  slipped  to  one  side  of  the  glade, 
showing  a  short,  thick-set  man  behind  him,  and 

135 


136  IN    THE    BAYS    OF   WASHINGTON 

both  darted  back  into  the  shadow  as  Nathan 
sprang  up  with  a  cry  that  echoed  far  through 
the  forest.  At  the  same  instant  the  missing 
sentry  scrambled  to  his  feet  from  the  left  of  the 
camp,  where  he  had  fallen  asleep,  and  down  he 
went  again,  almost  as  quickly,  as  a  musket-shot 
rang  out  of  the  darkness.  Barnabas  and  his 
companions,  now  fully  roused,  ran  this  way  and 
that  in  confusion,  inquiring  the  cause  of  the 
alarm.  "  They're  gone  now,"  exclaimed  Nathan, 
and  he  briefly  told  what  he  had  seen. 

There  was  a  rush  to  the  spot  where  the  sentry 
had  fallen.  Robert  Lindsay,  who  had  taken  the 
second  watch,  lay  dead  with  a  bullet  through 
his  heart.  A  clay  pipe,  long  since  cold,  was 
still  clutched  between  his  teeth,  and  near  by  a 
little  patch  of  dry  grass  and  pine-needles  was 
burnt  close  to  the  ground.  A  shuddering  fear 
fell  on  the  men  as  they  looked  at  the  body  of 
their  comrade  and  fierce  were  the  threats  of 
vengeance. 

"  It's  plain  as  daylight  what  happened,"  said 
the  keen-witted  Barnabas.  "  The  British  have 


GLASS    MAKES    A    STRANGE    REMARK        137 

a  camp  over  yonder  by  the  bridle-road,"  pointing 
northward.  "  They  traveled  slow  yesterday,  an' 
we  just  about  caught  up  with  'em  at  midnight. 
Then  poor  Lindsay  here  lights  his  pipe  for  a 
smoke,  and  sets  fire  to  the  grass.  Before  he  kin 
outen  it  the  enemy  see  the  blaze  an'  come 
creepin'  over.  By  that  time  Lindsay  had  fell 
asleep,  an'  small  blame  to  him  arter  the  march 
we  made." 

"  He  was  sort  of  drowsy  when  I  roused  him 
for  his  turn,"  said  Atwood.  "  I  wish  I'd  let 
him  sleep." 

"  He's  sleepin'  now,"  Abel  Cutbush  answered, 
softly,  "  and  I  reckon  right  here  will  have  to  be 
his  grave  for  the  present.  We  couldn't  bury  him 
in  this  hard  ground,  even  if  we  had  the  tools." 

"  Or  the  time,"  said  Barnabas,  "  which  we 
can't  spare.  He  was  a  brave  soldier  an'  a  true 
friend,  an'  I  say  it  who  knows.  God  rest  his 
soul !" 

"  We'd  better  be  seeking  his  murderer," 
grumbled  Collum  McNicol,  and  the  rest  ap- 
proved warmly. 


138  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

"  Have  a  bit  of  patience,  men,"  replied  Bar- 
nabas. "  It's  no  use  to  pursue  now."  Turning 
to  Nathan  he  added :  "  The  little  man  was 
surely  Simon  Glass,  lad.  Are  you  certain  about 
the  other  ?" 

"The  one  in  front  was  Godfrey  Spencer," 
declared  Nathan. 

"  The  fellow  who  looks  summat  like  you  ?" 
asked  Barnabas.  "  I  seen  him  at  De  Vries's 
house  two  years  ago,  when  I  brought  a  letter 
from  your  father." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Nathan.  "  He's  a  lieutenant 
in  the  British  army  now,  and  I  believe  he  is 
attached  to  Major  Langdon's  staff." 

"  Major  Langdon  ?"  exclaimed  Barnabas. 
"  That's  the  name  of  the  prisoner  I  lost !  I 
wonder  if  he  is  with  the  party." 

"  Very  likely,  since  Godfrey  is  here,"  Nathan 
suggested. 

Barnabas  scratched  his  head  thoughtfully  for 
a  moment,  seeing  in  this  affair  a  relation  to  cer- 
tain other  things  that  had  puzzled  him  consid- 
erably of  late. 


GLASS    MAKES    A    STRANGE    REMARK        139 

"  I'm  forgetting  my  duty,"  he  said.  "  It  ain't 
safe  to  stay  here  a  minute  longer.  Forward, 
now,  an'  make  no  noise." 

With  loaded  muskets,  the  men  fell  in  behind 
their  leader,  leaving  the  body  of  poor  Lindsay 
to  stiffen  on  the  grass.  Barnabas  led  the  party 
about  a  hundred  yards  to  the  northeast  and 
halted  them  in  a  cluster  of  pine  trees. 

"  You're  safe  from  attack  here,"  he  said. 
"  Don't  stir  till  I  come  back.  I'm  going  for- 
ward a  bit  to  reconnoiter." 

Several  volunteered  for  this  duty,  but  Barna- 
bas knew  that  he  was  best  fitted  for  it,  and  he 
had  his  way.  He  crept  off  as  noiselessly  as  a 
serpent,  and  the  shadows  hid  him  from  view. 

Nathan  and  his  companions  waited  anxiously 
in  the  dark  cover,  not  daring  to  speak  above  a 
whisper,  and  expecting  at  any  moment  to  hear 
a  shot.  Fully  half  an  hour  elapsed,  and  dawn 
was  beginning  to  break  when  Barnabas  returned. 

"  I've  been  to  the  enemy's  camp,"  he  an- 
nounced, eagerly.  "  They're  less  than  a  mile 
due  north  from  here,  across  a  creek  that  flows 


140  IN    THE   DAYS    OF   WASHINGTON 

through  a  deep  an'  narrow  ravine.  An'  just  on 
the  other  side  of  the  creek  an'  the  camp  is  the 
bridle-road.  There's  a  big  pine  tree  fell  across 
the  chasm,  formin'  a  natural  bridge  from  bank 
to  bank,  an'  I  crept  over  that  to  peek  an'  listen." 

"Are  they  going  to  attack  us  ?"  asked  Reuben 
Atwood. 

"They're  thinkin'  more  of  gettin'  away,"  re- 
plied Barnabas.  "  From  what  I  kin  make  out 
they're  in  a  hurry  to  reach  Wyoming,  an'  they 
propose  to  start  as  soon  as  they've  had  breakfast. 
They're  at  the  cookin'  now,  just  as  though  we 
wasn't  in  the  neighborhood  to  be  reckoned  with. 
The  spies  didn't  learn  our  strength  a  bit  ago, 
an'  that's  why  they're  doubtful  about  attackin'." 

"  Is  Major  Langdon  there  ?"  inquired  Nathan. 

"  No,  lad,  he  ain't ;  but  unless  my  ears  de- 
ceived me,  it  was  him  give  the  party  their  orders. 
I  seen  young  Godfrey  Spencer  sittin'  by  the 
fire.  An'  Simon  Glass  was  there,  as  big  as  life, 
waitin'  for  the  bullet  that's  in  my  pouch  to  reach 
his  black  heart.  There's  nine  in  the  party — all 
British  cavalrymen,  except  Glass — but  they're 


GLASS    MAKES    A    STRANGE    REMARK        141 

wearin'  plain  clothes  instead  of  uniforms.  The 
horses  are  the  same  way* — no  brass  nor  polished 
leather  fixin's." 

"  I  reckon  they  want  to  pass  for  Americans," 
said  Evan  Jones. 

"That's  just  it,"  assented  Barnabas.  "An' 
now  look  to  your  flints,  men,  an'  your  powder 
an'  ball.  I'm  going  to  lead  you  straight  agin' 
the  enemy.  We'll  shin  over  the  tree,  and  fall 
on  'em  by  surprise.  If  they  expect  us  at  all, 
they're  countin'  on  our  comin'  round  to  the 
bridle-road  by  the  ford,  which  is  five  hundred 
yards  further  up  the  creek." 

"  We're  six  to  nine,  Barnabas,"  McNicol  sug- 
gested in  a  dubious  tone. 

"  We're  worth  a  dozen  Britishers,  man," 
stoutly  declared  Barnabas.  "We'll  have  the 
first  fire,  an'  that  ought  to  drop  five  or  six  of 
the  enemy.  The  rest  will  run — if  I  knows  'em 
right — and  then  we'll  grab  the  horses.  It's  the 
horses  we  want  most.  They'll  take  us  gallopin' 
over  the  bridle-road,  and  into  Wyoming  early 
in  the  morning." 


142  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

Barnabas  had  struck  the  right  chord.  The 
hope  of  reaching  their  imperiled  families  within 
a  few  hours  was  a  stronger  inducement  to  the 
men  than  vengeance  for  poor  Lindsay.  Without 
a  dissenting  voice  they  approved  their  leader's 
plan,  and  examined  their  loadings  and  flints. 
Five  minutes  later  they  were  following  Barna- 
bas in  single  file  through  the  thick  wood,  now 
cold  and  gray  in  the  breaking  light  of  dawn. 

Nathan  alone  was  gloomy  and  sad.  At  every 
step  he  saw  before  his  eyes  a  mental  picture 
that  made  him  shudder.  "  Godfrey  will  be 
there,"  he  reflected.  "  He  may  kill  me,  or  I 
may  have  to  fire  at  him.  Somebody  else  will 
likely  shoot  him  if  I  don't.  He  is  a  Tory  and 
an  enemy,  and  he  betrayed  me  that  night  in 
Philadelphia  ;  but  I  can't  forget  that  we  were 
old  friends.  I  must  do  my  duty,  though.  And 
I  will  do  it,  come  what  may." 

He  compressed  his  lips,  and  marched  on  re- 
solutely. 

With  a  warning  gesture  Barnabas  halted ; 
and  the  men  behind  him,  half  hidden  in  the 


GLASS    MAKES    A    STRANGE    REMARK        143 

laurel  scrub,  shifted  their  muskets  noiselessly, 
and  peered  past  their  leader  with  strained, 
intent  faces. 

There  was  danger  in  the  still  air.  Tragedy 
and  death  brooded  over  this  dense  woody  spot 
in  the  mountainous  solitudes  of  Pennsylvania. 
The  brink  of  the  chasm  was  three  yards  away 
— a  chasm  that  dropped  seventy  feet,  between 
narrow,  hollowed-out  walls  of  rock,  to  the  deep 
and  sluggish  waters  of  the  creek.  Through  the 
vistas  of  foliage  and  timber  could  be  seen  the 
trunk  of  the  fallen  pine,  with  many  a  bushy 
offshoot,  that  spanned  the  gorge  from  bank  to 
bank.  But  there  was  no  sound  of  enemy's 
voices  on  the  farther  side ;  no  evidence  of  the 
camp  save  a  curl  of  gray  smoke  drifting  upward 
to  the  blue  sky,  now  rosy-flushed  with  the  first 
light  of  day. 

"Looks  like  they'd  finished  their  breakfast 
an'  gone,"  Barnabas  said,  in  a  low  voice ;  "  but 
then,  ag'in,  they  may  be  layin'  a  trap  fur  us. 
It  ain't  safe  ter  calkerlate  when  Simon  Glass  is 
around." 


144  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

"We'll  do  no  good  tarrying  here,  man," 
grumbled  McNicol.  "  Yonder's  the  tree,  and 
we're  ready  to  follow." 

Barnabas  thought  of  poor  Lindsay  and  then 
of  the  horses,  and  suddenly  flung  prudence  to 
the  winds.  "  Forward !"  he  whispered,  and 
starting  quickly  through  the  scrub  he  planted 
his  feet  on  the  fallen  pine.  Nathan  followed 
with  a  beating  heart,  and  the  next  man  had  just 
stepped  out  when  a  musket-barrel  was  poked 
from  the  bushes  across  the  chasm. 

"  Back,  men,"  roared  Barnabas.  "  Get  to 
cover,"  and  as  he  turned  around  and  gained  the 
rear  bank  by  an  agile  spring,  a  thunderous 
report  woke  the  echoes  of  the  gorge. 

Nathan  tried  to  leap  also,  but  it  was  too  late. 
He  saw  the  flash  and  the  puff  and  felt  a  sting- 
ing pain  on  the  right  side  of  his  head.  All  grew 
dark  before  him.  He  tottered,  lost  his  balance, 
and  fell.  His  hands,  clutching  at  the  empty 
air,  caught  a  projecting  limb,  and  he  held  to  it 
with  desperate  strength.  As  he  hung  dangling 
over  the  gulf,  dizzy  and  stupefied,  he  heard  a 


GLASS    MAKES    A    STRAXGE    REMARK        145 

harsh  voice  above  cry  out:  "You  fired  too  soon, 
you  fool.  Let  the  rebels  have  it  now,  men. 
Blaze  away  at  the  bushes." 

A  straggling  discharge  of  musketry  followed 
the  words,  and  then  Nathan's  fingers  slipped. 
He  shot  downward  forty  feet  to  the  bushy  top 
of  a  tree  that  grew  slantwise  from  the  wall  of 
the  gorge.  This  broke  the  violence  of  his  fall, 
but  it  did  not  stop  him.  He  bounded  from 
branch  to  branch,  and  fell  the  remaining  dis- 
tance to  the  creek,  plunging  head  first  beneath 
the  surface. 

The  instinct  of  life  was  strong  within  the  lad, 
and  his  struggles  soon  brought  him  to  the  sur- 
face, choking  and  gasping.  He  was  too  bruised 
and  stunned  to  swim  a  fair  stroke,  but  by  feeble 
paddling  he  managed  to  keep  his  head  above 
water. 

That  was  all  he  thought  about  in  his  dazed 
condition,  and  without  making  an  -attempt  to 
reach  either  shore  he  drifted  with  the  sluggish 
current  for  twenty  yards  or  so.  Then  he  saw  a 
conical  rock  close  ahead,  rising  several  feet  out 
10 


146  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

of  mid-stream,  and  by  an  effort  he  reached  it 
and  clasped  both  arms  around  the  top. 

There  he  clung  for  fully  five  minutes,  while 
strength  returned  and  his  mind  cleared.  He 
had  not  heard  a  sound  since  he  fell,  and  he 
wondered  if  all  his  companions  were  dead.  He 
listened  in  vain,  looking  up  at  the  distant  blue 
vault  of  the  sky.  The  silence  of  death  rested 
on  wood  and  stream. 

A  sharp  pain  suddenly  recalled  the  fact  that 
he  had  been  shot,  and  he  put  one  hand  to  his 
head  in  a  fever  of  apprehension.  His  fingers 
were  red  with  blood  when  he  looked  at  them, 
but  his  fear  was  gone.  The  bullet  had  merely 
grazed  his  brow,  leaving  a  narrow  skin  wound. 

This  discovery  put  new  life  into  Nathan,  and 
he  determined  to  get  to  shore  and  search  for  his 
friends,  if  they  were  still  alive.  But  as  he  was 
about  to  let  go  of  the  rock  he  heard  a  noise  from 
the  north  bank,  in  which  direction  he  was  facing. 
Here  the  slope  was  less  precipitous  than  above, 
and  was  heavily  timbered. 

Some    person   was    descending    toward    the 


GLASS    MAKES    A    STRANGE    REMARK        147 

stream  at  a  recklessly  rapid  speed.  Loosened 
stones  rolled  down  to  the  water  with  a  splash. 
Here  and  there  amid  the  trees  and  bushes  a 
dark  form  showed  at  intervals.  Was  it  friend 
or  foe  ?  Nathan  asked  himself,  and  all  too  soon 
the  question  was  answered. 

The  noise  suddenly  ceased,  and  from  out  the 
fringe  of  laurel  at  the  base  of  the  slope  peered 
a  man's  face — a  hideous  countenance  with  but 
one  eye,  and  with  skin  like  wrinkled  parchment 
slashed  by  a  quillful  of  purple  ink.  It  needed 
not  a  glimpse  of  a  dingy  buckskin  jacket  with 
horn  buttons  to  tell  Nathan  that  this  was  the 
terrible  Simon  Glass. 

The  face  was  followed  by  a'  long-barrelled 
musket,  but  the  ruffian  did  not  at  once  raise 
it  to  his  shoulder.  He  stared  keenly  at  the 
lad  for  a  moment,  and  then  grinned  like  a 
fiend. 

"  No  mistake  about  it,  that's  him,"  he  mut- 
tered aloud.  "  Die,  you  dirty  rebel,"  he  added, 
levelling  the  gun  and  squinting  along  the  tube 
with  his  one  eye. 


148  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

Nathan  heard  the  first  words  so  indistinctly 
that  they  caused  him  no  wonder,  but  the  sen- 
tence that  followed  chilled  his  very  blood.  He 
could  neither  move  nor  utter  a  sound  as  he  faced 
the  death  that  seemed  certain.  A  spell  was 
upon  him.  He  was  charmed  into  helplessness 
by  the  musket's  black  mouth — by  the  ghastly 
grin  on  the  one-eyed  Tory's  face. 

A  few  seconds  slipped  by,  and  they  were  like 
so  many  minutes  to  the  tortured  lad.  Then, 
just  as  Glass  pressed  the  trigger,  a  fusillade  of 
musketry  rang  out  from  some  point  up  the  bluff. 
Bang !  went  the  Tory's  gun,  but  the  surprise  of 
the  shooting  overhead  had  fortunately  spoilt 
his  aim.  The  bullet  hit  the  rock  within  two 
inches  of  Nathan's  face,  and  a  shower  of  splin- 
tered chips  flew  around  him. 

Crack!  —  crack!  —  crack!  — crack  !  —  crack  ! 
The  muskets  were  blazing  merrily,  and  there 
was  a  din  of  yells  and  cheers.  Nathan  looked 
up,  and  saw  two  figures  dart  across  the  pine-tree 
bridge.  A  third  had  gained  the  centre  when  a 
bullet  sent  him  plunging  down  to  the  creek. 


GLASS   MAKES   A   STRANGE    REMARK        149 

The  lad  let  go  of  the  rock,  dived,  and  came 
to  the  surface.  Over  on  the  bank  Simon  Glass 
was  reloading.  He  had  driven  the  powder  in, 
when  the  firing  suddenly  ceased,  and  now  he 
seemed  to  hesitate. 

"  Help  !  help !"  Nathan  yelled  loudly.  There 
was  an  answering  shout  from  the  summit  of  the 
gorge,  and  then  a  crashing  noise.  The  Tory 
glanced  above  him,  tossed  his  partly  loaded 
musket  over  his  shoulder,  and  ran  swiftly  down 
the  edge  of  the  stream.  He  was  soon  hidden 
from  sight  in  the  bushes. 

"  That  you,  Nathan  ?"  called  a  familiar  voice. 
Nathan  answered  lustily,  and  a  dozen  strokes 
brought  him  to  shore  just  as  Barnabas  Otter 
reached  the  foot  of  the  bluff. 

"Thank  God!  lad,"  cried  the  old  man.  "I 
gave  you  up  for  dead  when  you  fell  off  the  tree." 

When  Nathan  had  told  his  story,  Barnabas 
declared  that  it  would  be  both  useless  and  peril- 
ous to  pursue  Simon  Glass.  "  We'll  settle  with 
the  ruffian  another  time,"  he  said.  "  To  think 
of  his  creepin'  down  here  to  make  sure  you 


150  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

was  dead !  But  that's  jist  like  him.  An'  now, 
if  you're  able,  we'll  be  gettin'  back  to  the 
party." 

Nathan  was  all  right  except  for  a  slight  weak- 
ness, and  with  a  little  assistance  he  made  fail- 
progress  up  the  bank.  As  they  climbed,  Barna- 
bas told  what  had  happened.  "  We  got  under 
cover  too  quick  for  the  enemy,"  he  explained, 
"an'  while  they  thought  we  was  hiding  in  the 
wood  we  were  making  for  the  ford  on  a  trot.  It 
was  round  a  bend  of  the  creek,  and  luckily  we 
got  across  without  bein'  seen.  Then  we  circled 
around  to  the  camp,  and  surprised  the  British 
from  the  rear  as  they  were  getting  to  saddle.  We 
dropped  three  in  their  tracks,  an'  shot  another 
on  the  bridge,  an'  the  rest  cut  an'  run  fur  life. 
It's  a  pity  Simon  Glass  wasn't  there  then." 

"Any  of  our  men  killed?"  asked  Nathan. 

"  Evan  Jones,"  Barnabas  answered,  soberly. 
"  He  was  shot  by  a  little  chap  that  fired  as  he 
run." 

By  this  time  they  were  at  the  captured  camp, 
and  Nathan  was  warmly  greeted.  He  examined 


GLASS    MAKES    A   STRANGE    REMARK        151 

the  four  dead  dragoons,  but  Godfrey  was  not 
among  them. 

"  What  did  the  man  look  like  who  was  shot 
on  the  tree  ?"  he  asked. 

"  He  was  my  age,  and  had  a  heavy  mustache," 
replied  Reuben  Atwood ;  and  the  lad's  mind 
was  relieved. 

It  was  considered  expedient  to  start  while  the 
five  survivors  of  the  enemy  were  scattered,  and 
before  they  could  get  together.  Three  horses 
had  been  killed  in  the  assault — they  being  in 
direct  range — and  a  fourth  was  so  badly  crippled 
as  to  be  useless.  The  five  that  remained  were 
just  enough  for  the  party,  now  reduced  by 
two. 

While  the  men  gathered  up  what  muskets, 
ammunition,  and  other  stuff  had  fallen  into 
their  hands,  Barnabas  dressed  Nathan's  skin- 
wound  and  squeezed  his  clothes  partly  dry. 
Once  in  the  saddle  the  lad  felt  quite  himself 
again,  though  he  shuddered  frequently  to  think 
of  his  narrow  escape. 

The  victory  was  not  without  its  sting.     Poor 


152  IN    THE   DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

Lindsay  and  Jones  had  answered  their  last 
summons,  and  the  bodies  had  to  be  left  where 
they  had  fallen.  Their  comrades  would  gladly 
have  buried  them,  but  duty  to  the  imperiled 
settlers  at  Wyoming  forbade  a  moment's  delay. 

The  sun  was  just  peeping  above  the  horizon 
when  the  little  band  mounted  the  captured 
horses  and  rode  away  from  the  scene  of  death 
and  bloodshed.  For  the  first  two  miles  they 
kept  close  watch  as  they  trotted  along  the 
bridle-road,  and  then,  the  chance  of  a  surprise 
being  now  past,  they  urged  their  steeds  to  a 
gallop. 

But  the  country  was  very  rugged,  and  the 
road  winding,  and  it  was  necessary  to  walk  or 
trot  the  horses  much  of  the  way.  So  it  was 
close  to  nine  o'clock  of  the  morning  when  the 
travelers  rode  out  on  the  elevated  crest  of  the 
mountainous  plateau,  and  beheld  the  lovely 
Wyoming  Valley  spread  out  before  them  in  the 
soft  July  sunlight. 

Here  was  the  Susquehanna  winding  in  a 
silver  loop  from  mountain  gap  to  mountain  gap. 


GLASS    MAKES    A    STRANGE   REMARK       153 

There,  a  little  to  the  westward,  the  hamlet  of 
Wilkesbarre  nestled  at  the  base  of  the  hills. 
Farther  east  the  stockade  of  Forty  Fort  rose 
from  the  opposite  lying  bank  of  the  river,  and 
the  flag  was  still  fluttering  from  its  staff. 


\ 


CHAPTER  IX 

IN  WHICH  NATHAN  TAKES    PART    IN  THE  BATTLE 
OF  WYOMING 

BARNABAS  and  his  companions  checked  their 
horses,  and  for  several  minutes  they  sat  still  in 
the  saddle,  gazing  with  stirring  emotions  on  the 
peaceful  and  beautiful  scene.  In  vain  they 
listened  for  hostile  shots ;  in  vain  they  scanned 
the  horizon  for  the  smoke  and  flames  of  burning 
dwellings. 

"We've  come  in  time!"  exclaimed  Nathan. 

"  We  have,  lad ;  no  doubt  of  it,"  assented 
Barnabas.  "  God  grant  the  rest  of  the  force  get 
here  before  the  trouble  begins.  And  now  let's 
be  pushing  down  to  the  fort." 

"  Hold  on,  comrades,"  said  Abel  Cutbush. 
"  Here  our  ways  must  separate.  I'm  a  married 
man,  and  I'm  going  to  strike  fur  Wilkesbarre, 
where  my  wife  and  child  will  be  expecting 
me." 

154 


THE   BATTLE   OF  WYOMING  155 

"They  may  be  yonder  at  the  fort,"  suggested 
Barnabas. 

"  Perhaps,  man,"  was  the  reply ;  "  but  I'll 
look  at  home  first." 

So,  with  a  few  words  of  farewell,  Cutbush 
turned  sharply  off  to  the  left.  The  other  four 
urged  their  steeds  cautiously  down  the  mountain- 
side, and  without  mishap  they  reached  the 
valley.  They  crossed  the  Susquehanna  by  a 
fording,  spurred  up  the  farther  bank,  and  were 
shortly  challenged  by  watchful  sentries.  A 
little  later  they  rode  triumphantly  through  the 
gates  of  Forty  Fort,  which  was  a  large,  stockaded 
inclosure  with  double  rows  of  huts  inside. 

Here  thrilling  sights  were  to  be  seen,  and  it 
was  evident  that  a  battle  or  a  siege  was  shortly 
expected.  The  fort  was  full  of  men,  women, 
and  children.  The  former  were  hard  at  work, 
cleaning  and  loading  muskets,  measuring  out 
powder  and  ball,  and  repairing  clothes  and  shoes 
for  a  march.  Many  of  these  eager  defenders 
ranged  in  age  from  fourteen  to  sixteen,  and  there 
were  also  a  number  of  very  old  men.  The  little 


IN   THE    DAYS    OP   WASHINGTON 

children  were  prattling  and  playing  as  though 
they  had  been  brought  to  the  fort  for  a  holiday. 
Of  the  women,  some  had  given  way  to  utter 
grief  and  were  weeping  bitterly  ;  others,  more 
stout  of  heart,  were  cheering  and  encouraging 
their  husbands. 

Barnabas  and  his  companions  were  joyfully 
greeted,  many  friends  and  relatives  pressing 
around  to  clasp  their  hands.  When  the  first  ex- 
citement was  over  Colonel  Zebulon  Butler 
pushed  to  the  spot,  accompanied  by  his  associate 
officers,  Colonels  Denison  and  Dorrance. 

"  My  brave  fellows,  you  are  heartily  welcome," 
cried  Colonel  Butler.  "  Do  you  come  from 
Washington  ?  What  news  do  you  bring  ?  Where 
are  the  rest  of  the  Wyoming  men  ?" 

"A  couple  of  days'  march  behind,  sir,"  re- 
plied Barnabas,  in  answer  to  the  latter  question. 
Then  he  briefly  went  on  to  tell  of  the  battle  of 
Monmouth,  the  departure  of  the  Wyoming 
troops,  and  the  subsequent  adventures  of  his 
own  little  party.  Men  and  women  listened  to 
the  narrative  with  breathless  attention,  and 


THE    BATTLE    OF  WYOMING  157 

when  they  learned  of  the  uncertain  fate  of  Cap- 
tain Stanbury — who  was  known  and  liked 
throughout  the  valley — Nathan  was  the  recipi- 
ent of  numerous  looks  and  words  of  sympathy. 
But  all  other  news  dwindled  to  insignificance 
beside  the  fact  that  the  relieving  force  was  still 
miles  away,  and  how  sorely  the  absent  ones  were 
needed  Barnabas  and  his  friends  soon  under- 
stood. 

It  appeared,  according  to  Colonel  Butler's 
hasty  account,  that  the  enemy  had  entered  the 
head  of  the  valley  on  the  30th  of  June.  They 
numbered  more  than  a  thousand  in  all,  six  or 
seven  hundred  of  them  being  bloodthirsty  Sen- 
eca Indians  under  the  terrible  half-breed  Brandt, 
and  the  remainder  consisting  of  Colonel  John 
Butler's  Rangers,  Captain  Caldwell's  Royal 
Greens,  and  Tories  from  Pennsylvania,  New 
Jersey,  and  New  York.  Colonel  John  Butler, 
who  was  in  no  wise  related  to  the  patriot  leader, 
was  in  full  command. 

The  enemy  were  too  strong  in  numbers  to  be 
successfully  resisted,  and  since  the  first  of  July 


158  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

they  had  ruthlessly  murdered  half  a  score  of 
settlers,  taken  possession  of  Fort  Jenkins,  the 
uppermost  one  in  the  valley,  and  had  advanced 
to  the  next  fort,  called  Wintermoot's.  Here 
they  now  were,  on  this  morning  of  the  3d  of 
July,  and  it  was  believed  that  they  were  prepar- 
ing to  move  on  Forty  Fort. 

"  So  you  see  that  the  situation  is  critical," 
Colonel  Butler  concluded.  "  We  have  not  yet 
decided  what  to  do,  but  the  day  can  hardly  pass 
without  action  of  some  sort.  It  is  useless  to 
hope  for  aid  from  the  relieving  force — they  can- 
not arrive  in  time.  The  little  army  assembled 
here  now  under  my  command,  is  all  we  can  count 
upon.  They  have  come  mostly  from  the  neigh- 
boring lower  part  of  the  valley.  A  few  com- 
panies of  our  home  regiment  are  unfortunately 
in  the  outer  settlements,  and  they  can't  reach  us 
inside  of  twenty-four  hours." 

"  Then  we  must  get  along  without  them,  sir," 
exclaimed  Barnabas.  "  We'll  give  the  Tories 
such  a  lesson  as  Washington  gave  Clinton  at 
Monmouth  a  few  days  ago." 


THE    BATTLE    OF  WYOMING  159 

"  God  grant  that  we  may !"  Colonel  Butler 
said  fervently.  "  I  expect  word  shortly  con- 
cerning the  movements  of  the  enemy,  and  then 
will  be  the  time  to  form  our  plans.  And  now, 
my  good  men,  I  want  to  thank  you  for  your 
heroic  march.  You  will  be  provided  with  food, 
and  everything  else  you  may  need,  and  I  shall 
depend  on  your  support  in  the  coming  strug- 

gle." 

"  You  are  sure  to  have  it,  sir,"  declared  Bar- 
nabas ;  and  this  opinion  was  eagerly  echoed  by 
the  rest. 

During  the  next  hour  the  work  of  prepara- 
tion went  on,  fresh  recruits  straggling  in  at  in- 
tervals. Nathan  and  his  companions,  who  were 
already  fully  equipped,  lent  what  aid  they  could, 
or  engaged  in  conversation  with  old  friends  and 
neighbors. 

About  eleven  o'clock  in  the  morning  a  settler 
named  Ingersoll,  who  had  been  captured  by  the 
enemy  several  days  before,  near  Wintermoot's 
fort,  arrived  under  a  flag  of  truce,  in  custody  of 
an  Indian  and  a  Tory.  He  was  the  bearer  of  a 


IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

message  from  Colonel  John  Butler,  demanding 
the  immediate  and  unconditional  surrender  of 
all  the  forts  in  the  valley  and  all  public  prop- 
erty. This  was,  of  course,  refused,  and  Inger- 
soll  left  with  his  guards,  the  latter  having  taken 
advantage  of  their  visit  to  observe  the  condition 
of  the  fort,  and  the  number  and  spirit  of  its 
defenders. 

Colonel  Zebulon  Butler  now  called  a  council 
of  war,  at  which  opinions  were  freely  expressed. 
Many  of  the  settlers  were  admitted  to  thisj  in- 
cluding Barnabas  and  his  companions.  Colonels 
Denison  and  Dorrance,  as  well  as  a  number  of 
others,  were  in  favor  of  delaying  action,  on  the 
ground  that  the  absent  militia  companies  and 
the  relief  force  sent  by  Washington  might  yet 
arrive  in  time  to  save  the  valley.  But  Colonel 
Butler  was  opposed  to  delay,  and  made  an  elo- 
quent oration  against  it. 

"  For  three  days  the  enemy  have  been  within 
the  valley,"  he  said,  "  and  they  have  steadily 
carried  on  their  work  of  destruction  and  mur- 
der. Two  forts  are  already  in  their  possession, 


THE    BATTLE    OF  WYOMING  161 

and  if  we  show  an  inclination  to  be  idle  they 
will  certainly  press  their  advantage.  They  have 
boats,  and  they  can  easily  cross  the  river  from 
Wintermoot's  to  Pittston,  and  take  the  little 
fort  there  under  Captain  Blanchard.  They  can 
march  or  float  from  place  to  place,  and  will 
destroy  the  valley  piecemeal.  And  once  the 
butchers  spread  throughout  the  country,  we  will 
no  longer  be  able  to  hold  our  little  army 
together.  Each  man  will  fly  to  protect  his  own 
home.  The  relief  force  cannot  reach  us  in 
time,  and  it  is  doubtful  if  the  absent  militia 
companies  will  arrive  within  two  days.  So  we 
must  clearly  depend  on  God  and  ourselves, 
and  I  assert  that  to  attack  and  defeat  the  enemy 
is  the  only  hope  for  the  settlement." 

These  spirited  words  made  an  impression, 
and  at  once  won  over  a  large  majority.  The 
rest  were  finally  induced  to  assent,  and  without 
further  delay  the  preparations  for  the  advance 
were  begun. 

Six  companies  were  available,  and  of  these 
one  consisted  of  regulars  under  Captain  Hewitt. 
11 


162  IN    THE    DAYS    OF   WASHINGTON 

The  others  were  as  follows :  Captain  Whit- 
tlesey's  company,  from  Plymouth  ;  Captain  Mc- 
Karrican's,  from  Hanover ;  the  Lower  Wilkes- 
barre  and  Upper  Wilkesbarre  Companies,  com- 
manded respectively  by  Captain  Bidlack  and 
Captain  Geer,  and  a  company  from  Kingston 
under  Captain  Aholiab  Buck.  Barnabas  and 
Nathan  were  assigned  to  Captain  Whittlesey's 
company,  as  were  also  Reuben  Atwood  and 
Collum  McNicol.  In  all,  the  force  was  three 
hundred  strong — two  hundred  and  thirty  en- 
rolled men,  and  about  seventy  boys,  elderly 
settlers,  judges  of  the  valley  courts,  and  civil 
magistrates.  And  this  brave  but  meager  army 
was  about  to  attack  one  thousand  Tories  and 
Indians ! 

It  was  an  hour  past  noon  when  the  band  of 
defenders  filed  out  through  the  gates  of  Forty 
Fort,  leaving  a  few  sentries  behind  them  to  pro- 
tect the  weeping  and  well-nigh  distracted 
women  and  children.  It  was  a  clear,  warm  day, 
and  never  had  the  Wyoming  Valley  looked 
more  beautiful  and  peaceful.  Birds  were  twit- 


THE    BATTLE    OF  WYOMING  163 

tering,  and  the  sun  shone  brightly  on  forest  and 
river. 

Forward  the  column  marched,  not  knowing 
that  their  movements  were  being  watched  by 
vigilant  spies.  But  such  was  the  case,  and  fleet 
couriers  bore  word  of  the  advance  to  Colonel 
John  Butler,  at  Wintermoot's.  He  at  once  sent 
a  message  to  his  rear  guard  at  Fort  Jenkins, 
who  were  destroying  the  defenses  of  that  place, 
to  hasten  down  to  join  him  and  meet  the 
Yankees. 

In  the  neighborhood  of  three  o'clock  the 
Americans  approached  Wintermoot's  fort,  and 
from  a  distance  they  saw  that  it  was  in  flames — 
the  motive  for  which  act  on  the  enemy's  part 
was  never  fully  understood.  At  this  point  there 
were  two  plains  between  the  river  and  the 
mountain,  the  upper  and  lower  flats  being 
divided  by  a  steep  bank  fifteen  or  twenty  feet 
in  height.  The  fort  stood  on  the  brow  of  the 
bluff. 

Colonel  Zebulon  Butler  sent  several  officers 
forward  to  reconnoiter  the  ground,  and  when 


164  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

they  returned  with  their  reports,  and  with  the 
intelligence  that  the  foe  were  close  in  front,  the 
little  army  at  once  proceeded  to  form  in  line  of 
battle.  They  ascended  the  dividing  bluff,  and 
deployed  across  the  upper  plain.  Their  right 
rested  on  the  steep  bank,  and  the  left  stretched 
across  the  flat  to  a  morass  that  separated  the 
bottom  land  from  the  mountain.  The  plain  was 
sparsely  wooded  with  yellow  pine  trees  and 
oak  scrubs.  Captain  Whittlesey's  company,  to 
which  Nathan  and  his  friends  belonged,  was  on 
the  extreme  left,  and  that  flank  was  in  charge 
of  Colonels  Denison  and  Dorrance.  Colonel 
Butler  himself  commanded  the  right  wing. 

The  enemy's  left,  under  Colonel  John  Butler, 
rested  on  Wintermoot's  fort,  which  was  now  on 
fire,  and  from  which  the  Susquehanna  was  dis- 
tant about  eighty  rods.  A  flanking  party  of 
Indian  marksmen  were  hidden  in  some  logs 
and  bushes  near  the  top  of  the  bank.  Next  to 
Colonel  John  Butler  were  more  Indian  marks- 
men and  Cald  well's  Royal  Greens,  while  the 
main  body  of  the  Senecas  under  Brandt  formed 


THE   BATTLE   OF   WYOMING  165 

the  right  wing,  which  extended  over  the  plain 
to  the  morass. 

Thus  face  to  face,  the  two  armies  remained 
inactive  for  some  little  time.  At  a  distance 
Nathan's  keen  eyes  could  make  out  the  glitter 
of  a  uniform  here  and  there,  or  see  the  feathered 
plumes  of  the  Indians  nodding.  Through  the 
green  of  the  trees  the  sun  shone  on  tomahawks 
and  musket  barrels. 

"  How  do  you  feel,  lad  ?"  asked  old  Barnabas. 

"  Ready  for  the  fight,"  was  the  cool  reply. 

"  But  this  ain't  the  battle  of  Monmouth,  lad. 
There's  worse  odds  ag'in  us." 

"  All  the  more  reason  why  we  should  fight 
the  better,"  declared  Nathan.  "  Monmouth  was 
for  our  country  and  this  is  for  our  homes." 

"  Ay,  that's  proper  talk,"  exclaimed  Reuben 
Atwood.  "  I'm  thinkin'  we  must  all  fight  to 
the  bitter  end,  since  there's  no  mercy  to  be 
looked  for  from  them  fiends  over  yonder." 

Now  a  sudden  excitement  spread  throughout 
the  lines,  and  the  men  straightened  up  at  atten- 
tion. Colonel  Zebulon  Butler  came  riding  from 


166  IN    THE    DAYS    OF   WASHINGTON 

right  to  left,  and  checking  his  horse  near  Cap- 
tain Whittlesey's  company  he  repeated  the  brief 
address  he  had  just  made  to  his  followers  on  the 
right. 

"  Men,  we  are  about  to  attack,"  he  cried. 
"  Yonder  is  the  enemy.  Slaughter  without 
mercy  is  what  we  must  expect  if  we  are  defeated. 
We  are  here  to  fight  for  liberty,  for  our  homes 
and  families,  for  life  itself.  Stand  firm  with 
the  first  shock,  and  the  Indians  will  yield.  Let 
every  man  remember  his  duty." 

Loud  and  hearty  cheers  followed  the  Colonel 
as  he  rode  back  to  his  post.  Nathan  gripped 
his  musket  tight,  and  as  he  recalled  the  massa- 
cres of  the  preceding  days  he  resolved  to  make 
each  shot  tell.  "  Hurrah  !  we're  going !"  he 
shouted. 

"  Yes,  we're  at  it,  lad,"  cried  Barnabas. 
"  Steady,  now !" 

The  signal  had  been  given,  and  the  long  line 
was  in  forward  motion.  They  drew  nearer  and 
nearer,  and  suddenly  the  order  to  fire  came 
from  Colonel  Zebulon  Butler.  Crash  !  crash ! 


THE   BATTLE   OF   WYOMING  167 

the  deadly  volleys  rang  out.  Still  the  Ameri- 
cans advanced,  firing  rapidly  and  steadily. 
Crash !  Crash !  Men  began  to  fall,  some  dead 
and  some  wounded.  The  bluish  powder  smoke 
rolled  over  the  field,  mingling  with  the  yellow 
clouds  from  the  burning  fort.  Louder  and 
louder  blazed  the  musketry  fire.  In  spite  of 
the  pluck  of  its  officers  the  British  line  gave 
way  a  little.  But  it  quickly  rallied,  and  the 
enemy  stood  their  ground  stubbornly. 

The  American  right  was  now  hotly  engaged 
with  the  Senecas  and  Rangers,  and  soon  the 
fight  was  waging  along  the  entire  line.  On 
both  sides  the  dead  and  wounded  increased,  and 
as  the  Indian  sharpshooters  fired  they  uttered 
fearful  and  hideous  yells.  Nathan  was  sur- 
prised at  his  own  coolness.  He  loaded  and  fired 
like  an  old  soldier,  never  pulling  trigger  until 
he  had  a  bead  drawn  on  a  foe.  Some  of  the 
men  on  the  left  began  to  waver  as  their  com- 
rades fell  about  them,  but  a  few  words  from 
Colonel  Dorrance  had  the  effect  of  closing  the 
broken  line  up. 


168  IN    THE    DAYS    OF   WASHINGTON 

For  half  an  hour  the  battle  went  on,  growing 
warmer  and  warmer.  As  yet  Nathan  was 
unhurt,  and  so  far  as  he  could  tell  his  friends 
had  fared  as  fortunately.  Animated  by  the 
hope  of  victory,  the  Americans  displayed  the 
utmost  valor  and  bravery.  But  now,  alas  !  the 
enemy  began  to  show  the  power  that  superior 
numbers  gave  them.  A  large  force  of  Indians 
was  thrown  into  the  swamp,  thus  completely 
outflanking  the  left  of  the  patriot  line.  Seeing 
the  danger,  Colonel  Denison  ordered  Whittlesey 
to  wheel  his  company  at  an  angle  with  the  main 
line,  and  thus  present  a  front  to  the  foe. 

It  is  always  difficult  to  perform  such  an  evo- 
lution under  a  hot  fire,  and  in  this  case  the  result 
was  disastrous.  No  sooner  had  Captain  Whit- 
tlesey's  company  made  the  attempt  than  the 
Indians  rushed  forward  with  blood-curdling 
yells.  Some  of  the  Americans  understood  the 
order  to  fall  back  on  flank  to  mean  a  retreat, 
and  by  this  fatal  mistake  the  whole  of  the  left 
line  was  thrown  into  confusion.  A  part  stood 
their  ground,  and  others  fled  in  panic.  Seeing 


169 

the  disorder  and  confusion  here,  and  finding 
that  his  own  men  on  the  right  were  also  begin- 
ning to  give  way,  Colonel  Zebulon  Butler  rode 
recklessly  to  and  fro  between  the  fires  of  the 
opposing  ranks. 

"  Stand  firm !"  he  cried  in  ringing  tones. 
"  Don't  forsake  me !  Make  a  stand,  my  brave 
men,  and  the  victory  will  yet  be  ours." 

But  it  was  too  late.  In  vain  did  the  daring 
commander  harangue  his  men ;  in  vain  did  his 
officers  support  him  by  words  and  actions,  and 
the  drummers  beat  the  charge.  The  rout  began 
— a  rout  that  was  too  overwhelming  and  wide- 
spread to  be  checked.  The  right  and  left  lines 
of  the  Americans  fled  in  all  directions,  hotly 
pursued  by  the  vengeful  Tories  and  Indians. 
The  crack  of  muskets  and  the  dull  crash  of  the 
tomahawk  mingled  with  the  shrieks  of  the 
dying  and  the  yells  of  the  victors.  Stephen 
Whitou,  a  young  schoolmaster,  was  butchered 
by  the  side  of  the  man  whose  daughter  he  had 
just  married.  Darius  Spofford,  also  lately  mar- 
ried, fell  dead  in  the  arms  of  his  brother  Phin- 


170  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

eas.  Every  captain  that  led  a  company  into 
action  was  slain.  Bidlack,  Hewitt,  Whittlesey 
— all  died  at  the  head  of  their  men. 

And  now,  the  battle  over  and  the  massacre 
begun,  horror  was  piled  on  horror.  There  was 
little  chance  of  escape  for  the  fugitives.  The 
flanking  party  of  Indians  pushed  hastily  to  the 
rear  to  cut  off  the  retreat  to  Forty  Fort,  and 
thus  the  wretched  and  panic-stricken  settlers 
were  driven  in  the  direction  of  the  river,  over 
the  open  ground  and  through  fields  of  uncut 
grain.  Some  few  swam  to  Monockasy  Island, 
which  offered  a  temporary  refuge.  But  many 
were  speared  and  tomahawked  at  the  water's 
edge,  and  others,  shot  while  swimming,  were 
borne  away  lifeless  on  the  current.  A  man 
named  Pensil,  who  had  gained  the  island,  was 
pursued  there  and  slain  by  his  own  Tory  brother. 
Lieutenant  Shoemaker,  as  he  plunged  into  the 
river,  glanced  over  his  shoulder  to  see  a  Tory 
named  Windecker  who  had  often  dined  at  his 
table  in  past  times.  Swimming  back  to  shore, 
he  begged  his  old  friend  to  protect  him.  The 


THE    BATTLE   OF    WYOMING  171 

foul  ruffian  pretended  to  consent,  but  while  he 
helped  the  officer  out  of  the  water  with  his  left 
hand,  with  his  right  he  drove  a  tomahawk  into 
his  brain.  Many  others  were  thus  lured  to 
shore  by  promise  of  quarter,  only  to  be  ruth- 
lessly butchered.  A  number  of  the  prisoners 
were  thrown  alive  on  the  burning  logs  of  Fort 
Winterrnoot,  and  no  less  than  a  score  were 
tomahawked  by  Queen  Esther,  an  Indian  fury 
in  the  form  of  a  woman.  She  slew  them  with 
her  own  hand  while  the  savages  held  them,  and 
the  bodies  of  her  victims,  scalped  and  mutilated, 
were  subsequently  found  lying  in  a  circle  where 
they  had  fallen.  The  carnage  would  have  been 
greater  had  not  night  intervened.  Under  cover 
of  darkness  a  small  proportion  of  the  fugitives 
escaped,  and  of  the  number  was  Colonel  Denison 
and  Colonel  Zebulon  Butler.  The  latter  was 
borne  off  the  field  on  his  horse,  and  by  a  devious 
route  he  finally  reached  the  fort  at  Wilkesbarre. 
Good  fortune  also  fell  to  the  lot  of  Barnabas 
and  Nathan.  After  standing  their  ground  until 
valor  had  ceased  to  be  a  virtue  they  fled,  side  by 


172  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

side,  to  the  river,  firing  at  intervals  as  they  went. 
At  the  water's  edge  they  confronted  and  killed 
a  Tory  and  an  Indian  who  had  overtaken  them, 
and  then,  being  good  swimmers,  they  safely 
reached  the  opposite  shore  some  distance  below 
the  island.  In  company  with  several  other 
refugees  they  pushed  down  the  Susquehanna, 
recrossed  the  stream,  arid  safely  entered  Forty 
Fort  at  nightfall.  They  were  rejoiced  to  learn 
that  Reuben  Atwood  and  Collum  McNicol  had 
arrived  some  time  before. 

Pitiful  and  heartrending  were  the  scenes 
within  the  fort  as  the  hours  of  darkness  dragged 
on.  Women  and  children  wept  and  wrung  their 
hands  as  they  called  the  names  of  loved  ones 
who  would  never  return.  Bleeding  and  pow- 
der-grimed men  stood  about  in  weary  and 
dazed  groups.  Of  the  band  of  three  hundred 
who  started  out  to  battle  at  noon-time  less  than 
one-third  had  straggled  back.  The  rest  lay 
dead  and  mutilated  in  the  woods,  on  the  sands 
of  Monockasv  Island,  or  were  drifting  on  the 

*/  o 

rippling  tide  of  the  river.     So  terrible  was  the 


THE    BATTLE    OF    WYOMING  173 

defeat  that  the  survivors  had  utterly  lost  heart ; 
they  were  ready  to  submit  to  any  terms  to  save 
their  lives. 

The  night  was  full  of  horror,  for  an  attack 
was  constantly  expected.  In  the  interval  be- 
tween darkness  and  dawn,  a  few  settlers  with 
their  families  flocked  to  the  fort  from  the  lower 
part  of  the  valley,  and  several  sorely-wounded 
fugitives  crept  in.  Nathan  could  not  sleep,  and 
for  hours  he  wandered  about  the  stockade.  The 
disaster  had  stunned  him,  unused  as  he  was  to 
the  horrors  of  Indian  warfare.  The  past  week, 
with  its  record  of  bloodshed  and  battle,  had 
made  a  man  of  the  lad.  How  dreamlike  and 
long  ago  seemed  his  happy  student  life  in  Phil- 
adelphia ! 

The  outcome  of  the  Tory  and  Indian  raid 
upon  the  colonists  of  the  Wyoming  Valley  may 
be  briefly  told.  On  the  morning  of  the  4th  of 
July — the  day  following  the  massacre — Colonel 
Zebulon  Butler  started  for  the  nearest  town  on 
the  Lehigh  to  send  a  report  to  the  Board  of 
War.  That  morning  one  of  the  absent  militia 


174  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

companies  arrived  at  Forty  Fort,  and  there  was 
some  talk  of  offering  further  resistance.  But 
this  was  speedily  abandoned,  as  messengers  who 
had  been  sent  out  reported  that  the  panic- 
stricken  inhabitants  of  the  valley  were  fleeing 
in  every  direction  to  the  wilderness.  It  was  also 
learned  that  Fort  Brown,  at  Pittston,  had  been 
surrendered  by  Captain  Blanchard. 

So  Colonel  Denison  at  once  opened  negotia- 
tions with  the  leaders  of  the  enemy,  and  after 
hours  of  suspense  and  discussion  it  was  decided 
to  surrender  the  fort  on  condition  that  the  lives 
of  the  survivors  should  be  spared.  The  articles 
of  capitulation  were  signed,  and  on  the  afternoon 
of  the  5th  a  sad  and  bitter  ceremony  took  place 
on  the  bluff  of  the  Susquehanna.  The  gates  of 
Forty  Fort  were  thrown  open,  the  flag  was 
hauled  down,  and  to  the  music  of  drums  and 
fifes  the  enemy  marched  in  behind  Colonel  John 
Butler — company  after  company  of  Rangers  and 
Tories,  Captain  Caldwell's  Royal  Greens,  and 
the  sullen,  painted-faced  Indians  headed  by  two 
human  fiends — Brandt  and  Queen  Esther. 


THE    BATTLE   OF    WYOMING  175 

Colonel  Butler  prevented  any  immediate 
bloodshed,  but  the  settlers  were  ruthlessly  plun- 
dered as  they  filed  out.  Knowing  their  danger 
too  well  they  fled  in  all  directions,  some  toward 
the  Delaware,  others  down  the  Susquehanna  by 
water  and  land. 

The  Senecas  and  Tories  shortly  laid  waste  the 
valley,  destroying  what  they  could  not  take 
away,  burning  the  town  of  Wilkesbarre  and 
many  cabins,  and  driving  the  horses  and  cattle 
to  Niagara.  The  relief  force  that  had  started 
from  Washington's  army  turned  back  when  the 
news  of  the  massacre  reached  them  at  Strouds- 
burg,  and  for  a  time  the  lovely  Vale  of  Wyoming 
was  abandoned  to  ruin  and  solitude. 


CHAPTER  X 

IN    WHICH    NATHAX    FINDS    THE    PAPERS 

AMONG  the  last  to  leave  Forty  Fort  after  its 
surrender  was  Barnabas  Otter.  In  the  dusk  of 
the  evening  he  slipped  through  the  gate  with 
others,  and  made  his  way,  unobserved,  to  a  large 
rock  several  hundred  yards  back  from  the  river. 
He  was  joined  almost  immediately  by  Nathan, 
and  presently  Reuben  Atwood  and  Collum  Mc- 
Nicol  arrived  at  the  same  spot.  The  two  latter 
knew  all  about  Captain  Stanbury's  papers,  and 
were  to  assist  in  getting  them.  The  little  party 
had  previously  arranged  to  meet  here  secretly 
for  this  purpose,  and  they  hoped  to  complete 
their  task  and  push  some  miles  down  the  Sus- 
quehanna  that  same  night. 

"All  here,  are  ye  ?"  said  Collum  McNicol,  who 
was  the  last  to  arrive.     "  Let's  make  haste  and 
have  done  with  the  business.     My  heart  is  sore 
after  what  I've  seen  yonder  this  afternoon — " 
176 


NATHAN    FINDS    THE    PAPERS  177 

"  Peace,  man,"  interrupted  Barnabas.  "  The 
less  said  the  better.  We're  all  sore  at  heart, 
I'm  thinking — aye,  an'  something  more.  I  feel 
myself  like  a  panther  stripped  of  her  cubs. 
Don't  put  fire  to  our  passions,  or  we'll  be 
tempted  to  some  desperate  deed." 

"  It  ain't  likely,  with  not  a  fire-arm  among 
us,"  said  Atwood.  "There's  no  chance  of  a 
shot  at  Tory  or  redskin.  We  must  bide  our 
time  for  vengeance  till  we're  back  with  the  army." 

"Aye,  we'll  have  a  reckoning  then,"  replied 
Barnabas.  "  Every  Redcoat  will  stand  for 
Wyoming — Hist !  who  comes  ?" 

Soft  footsteps  were  heard,  and  a  settler  named 
Morgan  Proud  glided  up  to  the  rock.  "  Four 
of  ye  ?"  he  said,  peering  at  the  group.  "  I  won't 
be  intrudin',  men,  but  I  followed  hither  for  a 
purpose.  Do  you  want  arms  ?" 

"  Do  we  ?"  exclaimed  Barnabas.  "An'  kin 
you  pervide  them,  man?" 

"  That  I  can,"  said  Proud.  "  When  we  come 
up  to  the  fort  from  Wilkesbarre  yesterday — ten 
of  us — we  brought  nearly  two  muskets  apiece 
12 


178  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

along.  But  we  hid  the  guns  and  ammunition 
down  by  the  river,  half  expectin'  the  fort  would 
be  surrendered  and  all  arms  given  up.  And  we 
acted  wisely — " 

"  Lead  the  way,  man,"  broke  in  Barnabas. 
"  This  deed'll  win  you  a  golden  crown  some  day. 
But  are  you  sure  the  stuff  is  there  yet  ?" 

"  They're  well  hid,"  replied  Proud,  "  and  I 
told  our  men,  who  just  started,  to  take  a  musket 
apiece  and  leave  the  rest.  Will  your  party 
join  us,  Barnabas  ?  We're  going  down  river 
in  flat-boats  from  Wilkesbarre." 

"  We  have  an  errand  over  yonder  first,"  said 
Barnabas,  jerking  his  thumb  northward.  "  We 
might  ketch  up  with  you,  but  don't  wait  on  us." 

"No,  we'll  take  no  risk,"  Proud  answered, 
"  seein'  as  we'll  have  women  and  children  de- 
pendin'  on  us.  But  you're  welcome  to  the  arms 
all  the  same." 

Without  further  speech  he  led  the  party 
obliquely  toward  the  river,  and  they  came 
speedily  to  a  windfall  under  the  bluff.  Proud's 
friends  had  been  here  and  gone,  but  the  extra 


NATHAN    FINDS   THE   PAPERS 

muskets  were  safe  in  their  hiding  place.  The 
man  handed  out  the  requisite  number,  adding  a 
generous  supply  of  powder  and  ball. 

"  I'll  wait  here  a  bit,"  he  said.  "  There'll  be 
others  coming  by,  and  I  have  three  guns  left." 

Barnabas  and  his  companions  wished  him 
farewell  and  good  luck,  and  then  mounted  the 
bank  and  struck  into  the  woods.  Now  that  they 
were  armed  they  felt  like  new  men,  and  a  great 
weight  was  lifted  from  their  minds.  In  single 
file  they  made  a  detour  to  the  rear  of  the  fort, 
and  pressed  rapidly  northeast  through  the 
woods  for  a  mile  and  a  half,  speaking  not  a 
word  on  the  way.  Every  heart  beat  faster  as 
the  northern  edge  of  the  battlefield  was  skirted, 
and  now  a  sharp  turn  was  made  to  the  left. 
Ten  minutes  later,  as  the  moon  peeped  above  the 
horizon,  the  party  reached  a  little  cabin  in  a 
clearing.  The  tears  came  into  Nathan's  eyes 
as  he  saw  the  home  where  his  happy  boyhood 
had  been  spent' — the  spot  sacred  to  the  memory 
of  his  lost  father.  Here  was  the  spring,  and 
there  the  out-shed  where  the  winter's  supply  of 


180  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

logs  was  always  stored.  The  path  leading  to 
the  step  could  still  be  traced  between  the  weeds 
and  grass. 

"  Cheer  up,  lad,"  said  Barnabas,  divining  his 
thoughts.  "  It'll  all  come  right  in  the  future. 
And  now  we'll  be  making  that  search." 

They  entered  the  cabin,  the  door  of  which 
was  wide  open.  It  had  escaped  the  torch  of  the 
Indians,  and  the  interior  was  much  as  it  had  been 
left  on  the  day  when  Captain  Stanbury  started 
for  the  war.  The  end  window  was  closed,  but 
the  shutter  was  off  the  one  in  front.  The  lad- 
der still  led  to  the  sleeping-loft  overhead,  and 
in  the  room  down-stairs  were  a  table  and  a 
broken  chair.  A  few  earthen  dishes  stood  on 
the  shelf,  and  a  layer  of  ashes  covered  the  fire- 
place. 

"  It's  a  bit  out  of  the  way,"  remarked  Barna- 
bas, looking  around,  "  an'  that's  why  no  one  has 
lived  here  since.  Where  shall  we  begin,  lad  ? 
Which,  to  your  mind,  is  the  most  likely  spot  ? 
The  captain  said  the  papers  were  under  the 
floor." 


NATHAN    FINDS    THE    PAPERS  181 

"I  never  knew  the  boards  to  be'  loose," 
Nathan  answered,  in  a  husky  voice.  "  Suppose 
we  try  the  fireplace." 

"  A  good  idea,"  approved  Barnabas.  By  the 
light  of  the  moon  he  scraped  the  ashes  off  the 
big  slab  of  stone  that  was  set  in  the  floor  of  the 
chimney,  and  he  was  about  to  pry  the  stone 
itself  loose  when  something  seemed  to  occur  to 
him.  He  straightened  up,  and  glanced  toward 
the  door. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?"  asked  Nathan. 

"  I'm  thinking  of  Simon  Glass,"  Barnabas 
answered. 

"  Why,  I  forgot  all  about  him,"  exclaimed 
Nathan.  "  He  and  what  was  left  of  his  party 
must  have  turned  back.  I  didn't  see  them  at 
the  fort." 

"  But  I  did,  lad,"  declared  Barnabas.  "  Glass 
marched  in  with  the  Rangers,  and  that  young 
Godfrey  was  close  behind  him." 

"Yes,  I  seen  'em  both,"  corroborated  Atwood. 

"  I  was  watching  the  Indians  all  the  time,  and 
Colonel  Butler,"  said  Nathan.  "  So  Glass  has 


IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

arrived  then  ?  But  you  don't  think  he'll  give 
us  any  more  trouble  ?" 

Barnabas  only  shook  his  head. 

"  McNicol,"  he  said,  "  stand  yonder  by  the 
door,  an'  keep  your  ears  to  the  wood.  Watchin' 
won't  come  amiss." 

The  man  went  to  his  post,  and  Barnabas 
stooped  down  and  lifted  the  slab.  He  dropped 
to  his  knees,  dug  rapidly  into  the  dirt  with  a 
knife,  and  lifted  out  a  flat  tin  box,  much  rusted. 
He  forced  the  lid  open  and  handed  Nathan  a 
packet  of  papers  sealed  with  green  wax. 

The  lad  pressed  it  reverently  to  his  lips.  "  I 
won't  look  at  them,"  he  declared.  "The  seal 
shall  remain  unbroken  until  I  find  my  father, 
or  until  I  am  satisfied  that  he  is  dead." 

"  It  would  be  wise  to  learn  the  contents,  lad," 
said  Barnabas. 

Nathan  shook  his  head.  "  My  father's  secret 
is  sacred  to  me,"  he  replied.  "  If  he  is  alive,  he 
would  wish  me  to  guard  it,  I  know.  But  the 
papers  must  not  be  lost.  Will  you  keep  them 
for  me?" 


NATHAN    FIXDS   THE    PAPERS  183 

Barnabas  readily — even  eagerly — assented. 
The  packet  was  not  large,  and  he  thrust  it  deep 
down  into  one  of  his  wide-topped  boots.  "  It's 
just  damp  enough  not  to  crackle,"  he  said,  as 
he  dropped  the  slab  back  into  place,  and  cun- 
ningly strewed  the  ashes  over  it  again — a  wiser 
bit  of  forethought  than  he  knew. 

"  Now,"  he  added.     "  We'll  be  off— " 

"  Hist,  men !"  McNicol  interrupted,  in  a 
whisper.  "  Come  hither,  quick  !" 

The  three  joined  the  Scotchman  at  the  door, 
but  they  did  not  need  to  ask  what  he  meant. 
The  forest  was  alive  with  whispering*  voices — 
with  the  passage  of  feet  over  dry  twigs  and 
rustling  grass.  A  light  danced  among  the 
thick  foliage. 

It  was  too  late  for  retreat,  and,  as  the  little 
band  crouched  behind  the  shadowy  doorway, 
they  beheld  a  startling  sight. 

By  twos  and  threes  a  group  of  Tories  and 
Indians  glided  into  the  glade,  close  to  the  spring. 
The  two  foremost  held  a  shrinking  man  between 
them,  and  as  they  came  nearer,  one  said  aloud, 


184  IN   THE    DAYS    OF   WASHINGTON 

in  a  familiar  voice  that  made  Nathan  shudder : 
"  Is  this  the  place,  you  rebel  dog  ?" 

"  It's  Captain  Stanbury's  cabin,"  muttered  the 
prisoner,  who  had  evidently  been  made  to  serve 
as  an  unwilling  guide. 

"  You  know  what  you'll  get  if  you're  lying," 
Simon  Glass — for  it  was  he — replied  with  an 
oath.  "  Come,  men,"  he  added. 

"  God  help  us !"  whispered  Barnabas. 
"There's  no  escape  unless  we  kin  keep  hid. 
But  they're  comin'  to  the  cabin,  an'  Colonel 
Butler's  promise  won't  count  with  such  fiends. 
They'll  kill  every  man  of  us  in  cold  blood." 

Low  as  the  words  were  spoken,  they  reached 
the  ears  of  the  enemy,  and  a  creaking  noise 
made  by  McCollum's  heavy  boots  completed  the 
betrayal.  "  There  are  rebels  here !"  roared 
Simon  Glass.  "  Don't  let  a  blasted  one  escape ! 
Surround  the  cabin  I" 

"  It's  all  up,"  cried  Barnabas.  "  Give  'em  a 
volley,  an'  remember  the  massacre.  Now — 
fire!" 

Four  muskets  flashed  and  roared,  and,  as  the 


NATHAN    FINDS    THE    PAPERS  185 

echo  fled  down  the  valley,  the  night  rang  with 
yells  of  rage  and  agony. 

There  was  no  time  to  look  for  the  result  of 
the  volley  through  the  drifting  smoke.  Bar- 
nabas instantly  slammed  the  door  shut,  and 
dragged  the  heavy  table  against  it.  "  Down, 
all  of  you,"  he  shouted.  "  Stick  to  the  floor. 
Nathan,  you  guard  the  rear  wall,  an'  watch 
through  the  cracks  of  the  logs.  McNicol,  you 
an'  Atwood  take  the  two  ends.  I'll  tend  to  the 
open  winder  here  in  front." 

The  three  crawled  to  their  posts  of  duty,  and 
for  a  time  the  silence  outside  was  broken  only 
by  an  occasional  moan  of  pain.  The  wary  enemy 
had  taken  to  cover  at  once,  until  they  could 
learn  the  strength  of  their  assailants. 

"  Did  you  kill  Glass  ?"  McNichol  whispered 
across  the  room. 

"He  ain't  in  sight,"  replied  Barnabas.  "He 
moved  his  head  just  as  I  fired.  The  Tory 
with  him  is  lyin'  dead  here  on  the  grass,  an' 
the  prisoner  is  beside  him — he's  better  off, 
for  he'd  a  been  tomahawked  anyway.  An' 


186  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

there's  a  wounded  Indian  dragging  hisself 
past  the  spring.  I  won't  waste  powder  on  the 
wretch." 

"  Glass  must  have  learned  where  we  were 
bound,  and  followed  us  here  for  revenge,"  said 
Nathan. 

"  It's  either  that  or  a  deeper  motive,"  Barna- 
bas answered,  and  even  as  he  spoke  a  hot  fire 
was  opened  on  the  cabin  from  three  sides.  The 
fusillade  lasted  for  several  minutes,  the  bullets 
tearing  through  the  crevices  or  burying  them- 
selves in  the  thick  logs,  but  by  crouching  flat 
all  escaped  harm. 

As  the  fire  slackened  the  enemy  boldly  showed 
themselves  here  and  there  in  the  moonlight,  but 
they  learned  a  lesson  in  prudence  when  Mc- 
Nicol  shot  two  of  their  number  from  a  loophole, 
and  Atwood  picked  off  a  third.  Barnabas  kept 
blazing  away^at  the  gleam  of  a  torch  some  dis- 
tance off  in  the  wood,  where  a  part  of  the  enemy 
was  probably  assembled.  As  nearly  as  could 
be  judged,  the  besieging  force  numbered  nearly 
a  score. 


NATHAN    FINDS    THE    PAPERS  187 

"  It's  a  bad  lookout,"  said  Atwood,  "  we  can't 
count  on  help  from  any  of  the  settlers." 

"More  likely  the  shooting  will  bring  the 
whole  party  from  the  fort,"  replied  Barnabas. 
"  We  might  make  a  dash  by  the  rear  if  there 
was  a  winder.  The  enemy  ain't  showed  up  on 
that  side  yet." 

"  They're  here  now,"  whispered  Nathan.  "  I 
see  the  bushes  moving — "  Bang!  the  lad's 
musket  cracked,  and  with  a  screech  an  Indian 
fell  dead.  Two  more  who  had  been  reconnoi- 
tering  the  rear  of  the  cabin  bounded  into  the 
woods. 

"  That's  the  way  to  do  it,"  said  Barnabas. 
"  Load  quickly,  men,  an'  don't  all  let  your  mus- 
kets get  empty  at  once." 

An  interval  of  silence  followed,  lasting  per- 
haps ten  minutes,  and  then  a  harsh  voice  from 
the  forest  called  for  a  truce. 

"  Only  one  kin  come  near,"  shouted  Barna- 
bas. "  What  do  you  want,  Glass,  if  that's  you  ?" 

"  I'm  willing  to  make  fair  terms,"  replied  the 
Tory,  who  was  careful  to  keep  hidden.  "  Come 


188  IN    THE   DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

out  and  give  up  your  arms,  and  not  one  of  you 
shall  be  hurt." 

"  We'd  sooner  surrender  to  a  rattlesnake  than 
to  you,  Simon,"  Barnabas  answered.  "We're 
goin'  to  hold  the  cabin,  an'  that's  our  last  word." 

Glass  accepted  the  ultimatum  with  a  torrent 
of  profanity  and  threats,  and  a  moment  later  the 
firing  recommenced.  For  some  minutes  the 
bullets  rained  against  the  logs,  while  the  be- 
sieged, flattened  on  the  floor,  kept  watch  at 
loopholes  and  crevices  for  any  of  the  enemy  who 
might  expose  themselves.  The  plucky  little 
band  well  realized  that  their  fight  was  desperate 
and  well-nigh  hopeless,  but  not  a  word  or  sign 
of  fear  betrayed  what  they  felt. 

Presently  the  firing  ceased,  and  now  there 
were  indications  that  the  foe  intended  to  make 
a  combined  rush.  So  certain  of  this  was  Bar- 
nabas that  he  summoned  Nathan  and  his  com- 
panions to  the  front  wall.  But  for  at  least  once 
in  his  life  the  old  woodsman  was  outmatched. 
The  Indians  and  Tories  advanced  only  to  the 
edge  of  the  clearing,  whence  they  let  drive  a 


NATHAN    FINDS   THE    PAPERS  189 

straggling  volley,  and  while  this  diversion  was 
going  on,  three  torches  were  thrown  from  the 
rear  upon  the  roof  of  the  cabin. 

A  strong  breeze  happened  to  be  blowing,  and 
with  amazing  rapidity  the  flames  took  hold  and 
spread.  The  roof  was  soon  burned  through  in 
patches,  and  now  the  loft  floor  caught  fire. 
Clouds  of  suffocating  smoke  rolled  to  the  lower 
room,  and  a  shower  of  sparks  and  blazing  em- 
bers made  the  situation  unbearable. 

"  It's  all  up  with  us  here,"  cried  Barnabas, 
"  an'  there's  nothin'  left  to  do  but  die  fightin'. 
Come,  men,  let's  open  the  door,  give  the  devils 
a  volley,  an'  make  a  rush.  Each  one  for  hisself 
arter  that,  an'  mebbe  one  or  two  of  us  kin  reach 
the  woods." 


CHAPTER  XI 

IN    WHICH    GODFREY    PLEADS    FOR    THE 
CONDEMNED    PRISONERS 

WITHOUT  waiting  for  an  answer,  Barnabas 
jerked  the  table  away  and  swung  the  door  partly 
open.  The  enemy  were  on  the  watch  and  im- 
mediately opened  a  hot  fire.  Two  bullets  struck 
Reuben  Atwood,  and  he  fell  dead  across  the 
threshold.  The  others  dodged  back  into  the 
heat  and  smoke,  and  just  at  the  critical  moment 
the  firing  ceased  in  response  to  a  loud  command. 

"  It's  the  Tory  colonel  hisself,"  exclaimed 
Barnabas,  as  he  peeped  through  a  crevice. 
"  He's  just  arrived,  an'  there's  lots  of  Royal 
Greens  along  with  him." 

"Colonel  Butler,"  he  added  loudly,  "we'll 
surrender,  providin'  you  spare  our  lives." 

"  Come  out  first,  and  then  we'll  talk,"  the 
officer  shouted  back  after  a  brief  pause. 

There  was  hope  in  the  words,  and  Barnabas 
190 


GODFREY  PLEADS    FOR    THE    PRISONERS       191 

and  his  companions  lost  no  time  in  scrambling 
to  their  feet.  Half-choked,  and  sweating  from 
every  pore,  they  stepped  over  Atwood's  dead 
body  and  staggered  across  the  clearing.  At 
sight  of  the  three  figures  there  was  a  loud  mur- 
mur of  astonishment. 

"Where's  the  rest?"  demanded  Simon  Glass, 
as  he  roughly  stripped  the  prisoners  of  their 
muskets. 

"  We're  all  here  but  one,"  Barnabas  answered, 
pointing  to  the  doorway,  "  an'  he's  dead." 

"I'll  send  you  to  join  him,"  snarled  Glass, 
and  with  that  he  presented  a  gun  to  the  old 
man's  head.  But  before  he  could  fire,  Colonel 
Butler  knocked  the  weapon  aside. 

"  You  ruffian  !"  he  exclaimed.  "  Would  you 
shoot  a  prisoner  in  cold  blood  ?" 

"  He  deserves  it,"  remonstrated  Glass,  in  an 
injured  tone.  "  Why,  this  is  the  leader  of  the 
rebel  band  that  attacked  my  party  a  couple  of 
days  ago,  killed  four  of  us,  and  stole  our  horses." 

"  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  that  affair," 
snapped  Colonel  Butler.  "  When  I  want  you 


192  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

to  play  executioner  I'll  tell  you.  Don't  inter- 
fere again !" 

With  a  scowl  Glass  slunk  away,  and  for  a 
few  moments  the  officer  scrutinized  his  three 
captives  in  silence.  The  upper  part  of  the 
cabin  was  now  wrapped  in  flames,  and  the  red 
glare  made  the  scene  as  light  as  day.  Tories 
and  Indians  stood  grouped  in  a  half-circle,  the 
former  with  cold,  pitiless  faces,  while  the  latter 
looked  ferociously  at  the  prisoners  under  their 
painted  cheeks  as  they  gripped  their  blood- 
stained tomahawks  and  edged  nearer  with  fiendish 
anticipation.  Godfrey,  who  had  been  with  the 
attacking  party,  was  standing  to  the  rear,  and 
his  face  alone  expressed  pity.  He  blushed  as 
Nathan  discovered  him  and  gave  him  a  quick 
glance  of  contempt  and  defiance. 

"  You  can't  expect  mercy,"  Colonel  Butler 
finally  said.  "  Within  a  few  hours  after  the 
surrender  you  are  found  here  with  arms  in  your 
possession — a  direct  violation  of  my  terms.  And 
you  took  the  offensive,  firing  deliberately  on  a 
part  of  my  force." 


GODFREY  PLEADS  FOR  THE  PRISONERS   193 

"  That's  right,  Colonel,"  chimed  in  Glass. 
'•  They  shot  first.  We've  six  dead  here." 

"  We  were  compelled  to  fire,  sir,"  said  Barna- 
bas. "We  had  no  way  to  retreat,  an'  that  ruffian 
yonder  told  his  men  not  to  let  one  of  us  escape." 

"  Exactly,"  assented  Glass.  "  But  my  object 
was  to  take  you  prisoners.  I  saw  you  and  your 
men  recover  the  arms  you  had  hidden  in  the 
woods,  and  I  was  justified  in  following  to  dis- 
cover your  purpose." 

At  this  Godfrey  started  to  come  forward,  but 
changed  his  mind  and  stopped.  His  face  was 
pale  and  haggard. 

"  Man,  you  lie,"  cried  McNicol,  turning  to 
the  one-eyed  Tory.  "  You  never  saw  us  get  the 
guns,  and  you  didn't  even  know  we  were  here 
till  you  reached  the  cabin.  And  had  we  sur- 
rendered at  the  first,  every  one  of  us  would  have 
been  massacred  in  cold  blood.  I  know  you  well, 
you  dirty  traitor." 

"  Colonel,  don't  believe  that  rebel,"  retorted 
Glass,  with  a  glance  of  fury  at  McNicol.    "  The 
affair  happened  just  as  I  said." 
13 


194  IN   THE    DAYS    OF   WASHINGTON 

"  Hang  the  affair !"  testily  exclaimed  the 
officer.  He  moved  aside  for  a  moment  to  con- 
verse in  a  whisper  with  Captain  Caldwell,  of  the 
Royal  Greens,  and  then  turned  to  the  prisoners. 
"  My  duty  is  very  simple,"  he  said.  "  There  is 
but  one  question  at  stake.  You  were  found 
bearing  arms  in  violation  of  my  terms.  You 
have  brought  your  fate  on  yourselves,  and 
now — " 

"  Sir,  would  our  lives  have  been  safe  anywhere 
in  this  valley  without  fire-arms  ?"  interrupted 
Barnabas. 

Colonel  Butler  bit  his  lip  with  rage.  "  You 
rebel  dog,"  he  cried,  "do  you  dare  to  assert 
that  I  can't  enforce  my  own  commands  ?  But 
enough.  Captain  Caldwell,  a  platoon'  of  your 
men,  please.  Stand  the  prisoners  out  and  shoot 
them." 

Nathan  turned  pale.  Barnabas  and  McNicol 
heard  the  sentence  without  moving  a  muscle.  A 
file  of  the  Royal  Greens  stepped  forward,  bring- 
ing their  musket  butts  to  earth  with  a  dull  clat- 
ter. But  just  as  several  Tories  laid  hold  of  the 


GODFREY  PLEADS  FOR  THE  PRISONERS   195 

victims  to  place  them  in  position,  an  unexpected 
interference  came  from  Godfrey  Spencer. 

"  Colonel  Butler,"  he  exclaimed,  "  let  me 
speak  to  you  before  this  goes  any  further." 

"  Stop,  you  fool,"  muttered  Glass,  trying  to 
push  the  lad  back. 

"  Let  me  go,"  Godfrey  whispered  fiercely. 
"If  you  don't,  I'll  tell  all." 

"  What  do  you  want  to  say  ?"  asked  Colonel 
Butler.  "Oh,  it's  you,  Lieutenant  Spencer !" 

"  Sir,  I  beg  you  to  spare  these  men,"  pleaded 
Godfrey.  "  With  justice  to  yourself,  you  can 
waive  the  question  of  their  bearing  arms,  since 
their  object  in  coming  to  the  cabin  to-night  was 
in  no  wise  contrary  to  the  terms  of  the  surren- 
der. We  came  for  the  same  purpose,  and  the 
meeting  was  accidental.  Simon  Glass  has  lied 
deliberately,  and  I  can  vouch  for  it  that  he 
would  have  shot  the  prisoners  at  once,  had  they 
given  themselves  up." 

Glass  ground  his  teeth  with  rage,  and  had 
looks  been  able  to  kill,  the  lad  must  have  fallen 
dead. 


196  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

"  I  can't  understand  this  hurried  march  of 
your  little  detachment  from  the  Jersies  to  Wyo- 
ming," replied  Colonel  Butler.  "  You  told  me 
you  were  sent  by  Major  Langdon,  and  now  I 
infer  that  this  cabin  was  connected  with  your 
mission ;  also,  that  the  prisoners  marched  from 
the  Jersies  with  the  same  purpose  in  view.  I 
would  like  a  further  explanation." 

"That  I  can't  give,  sir,"  Godfrey  answered 
firmly. 

"  Perhaps  you  can  ?"  and  the  Colonel  turned 
to  Barnabas. 

The  old  man  shook  his  head.  "  It's  a  private 
matter,  sir,"  he  replied,  "  an'  my  lips  are  sealed. 
But  what  this  young  lieutenant  says  is  all  true." 

Colonel  Butler  looked  puzzled  and  vexed. 
"  Whom  did  Major  Langdon  put  in  command 
of  the  party  ?"  he  sharply  inquired  of  Godfrey. 

"  Simon  Glass,  sir." 

"And  why  were  you — an  officer  of  rank — 
sent  along  as  a  subordinate  ?" 

"  I  don't  know,  sir.  I  don't  even  know  fully 
the  object  of  the  expedition." 


GODFREY  PLEADS  FOR  THE  PRISONERS   197 

"  Glass,  you  can  explain  this  mystery,"  ex- 
claimed the  Colonel,  losing  patience. 

"  Sir,  would  you  have  me  betray  my  trust  ?" 
demanded  Glass,  with  well-feigned  indignation. 
"You  saw  my  papers  yesterday.  You  know 
that  they  are  signed  by  Major  Langdon,  and 
that  I  am  acting  under  his  orders." 

"And  under  mine  as  well,  sir,"  replied  the 
Colonel,  with  a  frown.  "  There  can  be  no  inde- 
pendent commands  while  I  have  control  here. 
Come,  we'll  drop  the  question  of  Major  Lang- 
don's  authority.  I  want  you  to  do  some  work 
for  me  to-morrow.  You  are  just  the  man  for 
it,  and  you  can  have  the  force  you  led  out  of  the 
fort  when  my  back  was  turned." 

"  I  am  at  your  service,  sir,"  Glass  replied  in 
a  mollified  tone. 

The  Colonel  nodded.  "You  may  as  well  camp 
here  for  the  balance  of  the  night,  and  start  early 
in  the  morning.  Scour  the  whole  upper  part  of 
the  valley,  and  burn  every  cabin  and  house  to 
its  foundations." 

A  wicked  smile  showed  how  well  pleased  the 


198  T1ST    THE    DAYS    Of    WASHINGTON 

ruffian  was  with  his  orders.  "  How  about  the 
prisoners,  sir  ?"  he  asked  carelessly. 

"The  sentence  stands,"  Colonel  Butler  re- 
plied grimly.  "  I  will  give  them  a  few  hours  to 
prepare  for  death.  Hang  or  shoot  them  at 
daybreak." 

"  I  can't  entertain  your  appeal,"  he  added,  to 
Godfrey.  "  Your  arguments  do  not  mitigate 
the  fact  that  these  rebels  were  found  in  arms. 
I  must  do  my  duty." 

In  spite  of  Glass's  angry  and  threatening 
looks  Godfrey  made  a  second  attempt  to  save 
the  prisoners,  but  Colonel  Butler  cut  him  short 
in  a  manner  that  forbade  further  appeal.  The 
officer  was  in  an  ugly  mood,  for  his  natural 
curiosity  to  solve  the  mystery  connected  with 
the  cabin  had  been  baffled.  But  matters  of 
more  importance  demanded  his  immediate  pres- 
ence at  the  fort,  and  without  delay  he  marched 
off  at  the  head  of  the  Royal  Greens. 

Glass's  first  act  after  the  departure  of  Colonel 
Butler  was  to  search  Nathan  thoroughly  from 
head  to  foot,  and  the  lad  submitted  with  an  air 


GODFREY  PLEADS    FOR    THE    PRISONERS       199 

of  surprise  that  was  more  feigned  than  real ;  by 
this  time  he  had  an  inkling  of  what  it  all  meant. 

The  ruffian  could  hardly  conceal  his  disap- 
pointment when  he  failed  to  find  what  he  wanted. 
He  proceeded  to  search  McNicol  and  Barnabas 
— luckily  omitting  the  latter's  boots — and  then 
he  reviled  the  prisoners  with  the  most  bitter 
taunts  and  insults  his  brutal  mind  could  invent. 

Nathan  lost  his  temper  and  answered  back, 
thereby  receiving  a  cruel  blow  in  the  face  ;  but 
Barnabas  and  McNicol  stoically  endured  the 
shower  of  abuse.  None  of  the  three  showed 
any  sign  of  fear,  though  they  knew  they  were 
to  die  in  the  morning,  and  their  courage  might 
well  have  won  admiration  and  pity  from  a  more 
chivalrous  foe.  But  Simon  Glass's  half-dozen 
Tory  comrades — who  numbered  among  them  the 
survivors  of  the  squadron  of  dragoons — were  as 
brutal  and  degraded  as  himself.  The  rest  of 
the  force  were  Indians,  and  mercy  or  pity  could 
have  been  better  expected  from  a  pack  of  pan- 
thers than  from  these  blood-thirsty  Senecas. 

The  ruffian  finally  wearied  of  his   pastime 


200 

and  walked  toward  the  cabin,  which  was  now 
nearly  consumed.  After  watching  the  dying 
blaze  for  a  moment  he  returned. 

"How  soon  will  those  ruins  be  cool?"  lie 
asked  of  one  of  his  companions. 

"  I  should  judge  in  about  two  or  three  hours," 
the  man  replied. 

Glass  looked  pleased.  "  We'd  better  be  turn- 
ing in,"  he  continued,  "  for  we  must  take  an 
early  start  in  the  morning.  We'll  hang  the 
rebels  before  we  go.  Bring  them  over  yonder 


now." 


He  led  the  way  to  a  thicket  of  low  bushes 
that  stood  on  the  near  bank  of  the  spring.  In 
the  centre  of  the  thicket  were  three  saplings, 
and  to  these  the  prisoners  were  secured  in  a 
sitting  position,  with  their  arms  fastened  behind 
them  and  their  backs  turned  to  one  another. 
Having  seen  that  the  work  was  done  thoroughly, 
Glass  departed. 

"  You'd  better  be  praying,  you  rebels,"  he 
said,  in  a  sneering  tone,  "  for  your  necks  will 
stretch  at  the  first  light  of  dawn." 


GODFREY  PLEADS   FOR   THE   PRISONERS      201 

The  night  was  very  warm  and  the  Tories  and 
Indians  stretched  themselves  in  groups  amid  the 
thick  grass  that  carpeted  the  clearing.  A  sentry 
was  posted  on  guard  at  the  thicket,  and  as  he  paced 
to  and  fro  with  loaded  musket  the  upper  part  of 
his  body  was  visible  to  the  captives.  They 
could  see  no  others  of  the  party  for  the  bushes, 
but  the  silence  indicated  that  all  were  asleep. 
Godfrey  had  kept  in  the  background  after 
Colonel  Butler's  departure,  either  for  the  pur- 
pose of  shunning  Glass  or  to  avoid  those  he  had 
vainly  tried  to  befriend. 

There  was  no  hope  of  escape,  and  for  a  while 
the  wretched  little  group  talked  in  whispers, 
each  nobly  endeavoring  to  cheer  and  comfort 
the  others.  None  had  rested  much  on  the  pre- 
vious night,  and  finally  Barnabas  and  McNicol 
fell  asleep. 

Nathan  was  now  alone  with  his  thoughts,  and 
in  the  face  of  death  his  fortitude  almost  deserted 
him,  and  his  mind  yielded  to  bitter  anguish. 
He  lived  the  past  over  again — his  boyhood  days 
here  in  the  valley,  his  years  at  college  in  Phila- 


202  IN    THE   DAY8    OF    WASHINGTON 

delphia,  and  then  the  string  of  terrible  events 
that  had  begun  with  the  loss  of  his  father  on 
Monmouth  battle-field.  But  amid  the  conflict- 
ing thoughts  that  distressed  him  the  memory  of 
Godfrey's  strange  words  was  uppermost. 

"  What  can  it  mean  ?"  the  lad  asked  himself. 
"  Is  it  possible  that  Major  Langdon  sent  Simon 
Glass  here  to  find  and  steal  these  papers  ?  He 
heard  my  father  tell  me  where  they  were,  but 
why  would  he  want  to  get  them  ?  It  is  a  deep 
mystery — one  too  incredible  to  be  true !" 

Vainly  the  lad  puzzled  himself,  and  at  last  he 
fell  into  a  restless  sleep.  A  couple  of  hours 
later  he  awoke  with  a  start,  realizing  at  once 
where  he  was,  and  dreading  to  find  that  dawn 
had  come.  The  moon  was  far  down  and  under 
a  bank  of  clouds,  and  the  cabin  had  long  ago 
burnt  itself  out  to  the  last  spark.  But,  from  the 
direction  of  the  ruins,  floated  a  dull  noise  and 
the  sound  of  low  voices. 

"  Barnabas,  are  you  awake  ?"  Nathan  whis- 
pered. 

"  Yes,  lad,"  muttered  the  old  man,  and  as  he 


GODFREY  PLEADS   FOR   THE   PRISONERS      203 

spoke  McNicol  opened  his  eyes  and  twisted  his 
cramped  body. 

Before  more  could  be  said  the  bushes  rustled, 
and  a  dusky  figure  shouldering  a  musket  crept 
softly  into  the  thicket.  Godfrey — for  it  was, 
indeed,  he — put  a  finger  to  his  lips.  "  Hush  !" 
he  whispered.  "  I've  come  to  save  you.  All 
are  sleeping,  except  Glass  and  four  of  the 
Indians.  They're  poking  about  in  the  ashes  of 
the  cabin,  and  we  must  get  away  before  they 
return.  I  am  going  with  you,  for  my  life  is 
equally  in  danger." 

He  stooped  down  with  a  knife  in  one  hand, 
arid  quickly  severed  the  cords  that  held  the 
prisoners.  "  Now  come,"  he  added.  "  Look 
where  you  step,  and  don't  even  breathe  loudly." 

Nathan  and  his  friends  rose,  trembling  with 
joy,  and  almost  doubting  the  reality  of  their 
good  fortune.  But  they  knew  by  what  extreme 
caution  safety  must  be  won,  and  as  noiselessly 
as  shadows  they  trailed  their  sore  and  stiffened 
bodies  behind  Godfrey  to  the  farther  edge  of 
the  thicket. 


204  IN   THf}    DAYS    OF   WASHINGTON 

The  young  officer  had  thought  out  his  plans 
beforehand,  and  with  a  warning  gesture  he 
stepped  into  the  spring  at  the  point  where  it 
became  a  narrow  rivulet,  and  brawled  its  course 
swiftly  across  the  lower  corner  of  the  clearing. 
The  others  followed,  and  the  murmur  of  the 
waters  drowned  what  slight  noise  was  unavoidable. 

Now  came  the  critical  moment.  With  anx- 
ious hearts  the  fugitives  waded  slowly  down  the 
stream,  crouching  low  beneath  the  fringe  of  tall 
grass  that  concealed,  on  both  sides,  the  sleeping 
forms  of  Tories  and  Indians.  On  and  on  they 
went  amid  unbroken  silence,  and  at  last  the 
dense  foliage  of  the  wood  closed  over  them  like 
an  arch.  They  had  safely  passed  the  limits  of 
the  camp.  They  waded  twenty  yards  further, 
and  then  stepped  on  land. 

Godfrey  handed  his  musket  to  Barnabas. 
"You  know  the  country,"  he  whispered.  "Lead 
as  you  think  best." 

"  We'll  make  a  wide  detour  back  of  the  fort," 
Barnabas  replied,  "  an'  then  come  around  to  the 
river  at  the  lower  end  of  the  valley." 


GODFREY  PLEADS  FOR  THE  PRISONERS   205 

On  a  brisk  trot  they  started  toward  the  north- 
west, and  as  they  hurried  along  the  forest  trails 
that  the  old  woodsman  chose,  Godfrey  briefly 
told  what  all  were  anxious  to  know. 

"  I  got  awake  a  bit  ago,"  he  said,  and  "  heard 
Glass  instructing  four  of  the  worst  Indians 
to  tomahawk  you  people  just  before  daylight. 
They  were  to  kill  me  at  the  same  time,  and 
pretend  it  was  done  by  mistake.  That  was 
to  be  Glass's  revenge  for  what  I  said  to-night. 
I  remained  perfectly  still,  pretending  to  be 
asleep,  and  when  Glass  and  the  Indians  went 
over  to  the  cabin,  I  decided  all  at  once  what  to 
do.  I  told  the  sentry  I  had  been  ordered  to 
relieve  him,  and  he  handed  over  his  musket 
without  a  word.  He  was  asleep  in  two  minutes, 
and  my  way  was  clear." 

Barnabas  and  McNicol  warmly  thanked  the 
lad,  and  Nathan  impulsively  clasped  his  hand. 

"  I  hope  we  are  friends  again,  Godfrey,"  he 
said.  "  I  will  never  forget  what  you  did  to- 
night." 

"  I  will  do  more,  if  I  ever  get  the  chance," 


206  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

Godfrey  answered.  "  But  I  can't  explain  now 
— wait  until  we  are  certain  of  freedom." 

By  this  time  the  fugitives  were  a  mile  from 
the  enemy's  camp,  and  before  they  had  gone 
twenty  yards  further  a  faint  outcry  behind  them 
told  them  that  their  escape  was  discovered.  All 
now  depended  on  speed,  for  it  was  certain  that 
the  Indians,  by  the  aid  of  torches,  would  follow 
the  trail  with  the  unerring  keenness  of  blood- 
hounds. 

Barnabas  led  the  little  party  at  a  steady  pace, 
taking  them  several  miles  to  the  rear  of  the 
fort  before  he  turned  parallel  with  the  river. 
Now  they  headed  for  the  lower  end  of  the  val- 
ley, and  for  nearly  three  hours,  while  they 
traversed  the  lonely  and  gloomy  forest,  they 
heard  no  sound  but  the  chirp  of  night-birds 
and  the  distant  cries  of  prowling  wild  animals. 

"  I  can't  keep  this  up  much  longer,"  panted 
Nathan.  "  The  Indians  may  be  close  behind, 
but  for  my  part  I  believe  they've  lost  the  trail." 

"  Mebbe  so,  lad,"  replied  Barnabas,  k'  though 
the  quietness  ain't  an  indication  of  it.  We're 


GODFREY  PLEADS  FOR  THE  PRISONERS   207 

all  badly  winded,  but  the  river  ain't  far  off  now. 
Onct  we  git  across,  or  find  a  boat — " 

The  rest  of  the  sentence  was  drowned  by 
one  blood-curdling  whoop  that  rang  with  awful 
shrillness  through  the  silent  wood.  Another 
and  another  followed,  and  the  glimmer  of  a  torch 
was  seen  coming  over  a  knoll  at  a  furlong's 
space  behind  the  fugitives. 

"  The  Senecas  are  hot  on  the  trail !"  cried 
Barnabas,  "  an'  their  keen  ears  have  heard  us. 
On  for  the  river !  It's  our  last  chance !" 


CHAPTER  XII 

IN  WHICH  A  MYSTERIOUS    ISLAND   PLAYS  A  PART 

BARNABAS  was  right  in  guessing  the  river  to 
be  near,  and  the  fugitives  could  not  have  ap- 
proached it  at  a  better  time  or  place,  though 
they  had  little  idea  of  the  good  fortune  in  store 
for  them.  If  they  thought  about  the  chances 
at  all,  as  they  ran  desperately  before  the  screech- 
ing Indians,  it  was  to  realize  what  little  likeli- 
hood there  was  of  finding  a  boat,  or  of  safely 
gaining  the  farther  bank  by  swimming. 

But  when  they  had  plunged  through  a  slope 
of  water-birches,  and  straggled  breathlessly 
down  to  the  pebbly  shore  of  the  Susquehanna,  a 
welcome  sight  at  once  met  their  eyes.  Almost 
directly  opposite,  and  twenty  yards  out  in  the 
stream,  a  big  flat-boat  was  drifting  leisurely  with 
the  current. 

Over  the  high  gunwales  rose  two  or  three 
208 


A    MYSTERIOUS    ISLAND    PLAYS    A   PART      209 

heads,  and  a  voice  demanded  sharply  :  "  Who's 
yonder  ?" 

"  Friends  !"  cried  Barnabas.  "  Fugitives  from 
the  enemy !  The  redskins  are  hot  upon  us. 
Cover  the  bank  with  your  guns  while  we  come 
aboard." 

Splash !  went  Barnabas  into  the  water,  and 
his  companions  after  him.  With  sturdy  strokes 
they  swam  diagonally  down-stream,  caught  the 
stern  of  the  flat,  and  hauled  themselves  on 
board.  As  they  dropped  low  on  the  bottom, 
yells  and  musket-shots  split  the  air,  and  bullets 
rained  like  hail  against  the  thick  timbers. 

From  the  shelter  of  the  elevated  bulwark  the 
occupants  of  the  flat  returned  a  cool  and  effective 
fire,  and  when  Nathan  ventured  to  peep  through 
a  loop-hole  he  saw  two  Indians  prostrate  on  the 
beach  and  a  third  struggling  in  agony  in  shallow 
water. 

During  the  lull  that  followed  the  first  volley 

from  both  sides,  the  boat  drifted  over  a  course  of 

rapids,  and  the  swifter  current  swung  it  well 

toward  mid-stream.     With  a  few  parting  shots 

14 


210  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

the  baffled  foes  disappeared,  and  a  peaceful  calm 
fell  on  river  and  wood. 

The  escaped  prisoners  were  surprised  to  find 
Morgan  Proud  and  Abel  Cutbush  on  board  the 
flat.  The  latter 's  wife  and  child  were  with  him, 
and  another  member  of  the  party  was  a  negro 
named  Cato.  Mrs.  Cutbush  was  a  hardy  type  of 
the  colonial  women  of  the  time,  and  her  six-year- 
old  daughter,  Molly,  had  not  even  whimpered 
during  the  brief  fight. 

"  It's  a  good  thing  we  happened  to  be  here," 
said  Proud,  when  he  had  gleaned  their  thrilling 
story  from  the  fugitives,  "  and  it's  all  owin'  to 
chance,  too.  I  waited  a  bit  after  you  left,  and 
as  no  one  came  along  I  pushed  down  to  Wilkes- 
barre.  The  people  had  all  fled  except  Cato  here, 
and  Cutbush  and  his  family,  and  they  were 
tryin'  to  tinker  up  this  old  flat — the  only  boat 
left.  I  helped  'em  to  stop  the  leaks  and  rig  bul- 
warks on  both  sides,  and  about  an  hour  ago  we 
got  started.  There's  a  couple  of  other  parties 
ahead  of  us,  but  we  aren't  likely  to  ketch  up  with 
'em.  This  old  craft  is  heavy,  and  it  draws  a 


A    MYSTERIOUS   ISLAND    PLAYS   A   PART      211 

heap  of  water.     I'm  thinking  we'll  stick   now 
and  then." 

"We'll  pull  through  all  right,"  cheerfully 
replied  Barnabas.  "Now  that  them  redskins 
have  turned  back  the  danger  is  about  over,  for 
the  enemy  will  have  enough  plunderin'  and 
burnin'  to  do  right  here  in  the  valley  to  keep 
'em  busy.  How  are  you  off  for  weapons  ?  We 
brought  just  one  with  us." 

"  We  have  two  extra  muskets,"  said  Cutbush, 
"  and  as  Cato  ain't  much  on  shootin',  his'll  make 
up  the  number  your  party  will  want  in  case  of 
a  possible  attack.  There's  food  aboard,  and  as 
for  ammunition — "  He  pointed  to  a  keg  of  pow- 
der and  a  quantity  of  bullets  in  one  corner  of 
the  flat. 

By  this  time  the  boat  had  drifted  between  the 
abrupt  mountains  that  closed  the  lower  end  of 
the  Wyoming  Valley,  and  there  was  a  certainty 
of  good  current  and  depth  for  some  miles  ahead. 
All  through  the  night  the  men  of  the  party 
took  turns  at  sleeping  and  at  guiding  the  flat 
by  means  of  long  poles  and  a  rudder.  No 


212  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

hostile  shot  or  yell  broke  the  quiet,  and  at  last 
the  morning  sun  kissed  the  blue  water  into 
ripples  and  stained  the  hoary  mountain  peaks 
with  gold.  Danger  was  behind,  and  hope  and 
safety  in  front. 

While  Mrs.  Cutbush  prepared  the  frugal 
breakfast,  aided  by  Molly  and  Cato,  Barnabas 
and  Nathan  found  time  to  sit  in  the  bow  of 
the  flat,  where  they  were  presently  joined  by 
Godfrey.  The  lad  looked  haggard  and  wor- 
ried. 

"  I'm  ruined,"  he  said,  as  he  sat  down  beside 
his  companions.  "  I  feel  that  I've  nothing  left 
to  live  for.  Not  that  I  regret  what  I  did  last 
night.  Don't  think  it.  But  I  shall  be  branded 
as  a  deserter — and  worse.  I  can  never  go  back 
to  Major  Langdon,  and  if  I  am  caught  I  will 
be  shot  or  hanged  as  a  traitor.  I  wish  I  had 
never  been  sent  on  this  wretched  business." 

"Your  mission  was  not  legitimate  war,"  re- 
plied Nathan.  "  Explanations  will  surely  right 
you.  But  why  worry  about  the  matter  at  all  ? 
You  are  safe,  and  can  share  our  fortunes.  And 


A    MYSTERIOUS    ISLAND    PLAYS   A   PAKT      213 

after  the  fiendish  acts  you  saw  done  at  Wyom- 
ing by  a  British  force — " 

"Stop!"  Godfrey  said,  sadly.  "I  am  still 
true  to  my  cause,  Nathan — as  much  as  you  are 
to  yours.  Let  us  not  discuss  that  matter.  We 
can  at  least  be  friends  while  we  are  together." 

"  How  could  we  be  otherwise,  after  your  noble 
deed?"  replied  Nathan. 

"Then  you  have  no  ill-feeling?"  asked  God- 
frey. "  I  was  afraid  you  blamed  me  for  that 
night  in  Philadelphia.  It  was  Major  Langdon 
who  found  the  note,  and  he  made  me  go  along. 
I  have  always  wished  I  could  explain." 

"  Well,  it's  all  right  now,"  said  Nathan. 
"And  it  was  all  right  then,"  he  added  to  him- 
self, remembering  his  reckless  flight  through 
the  town. 

"There  is  something  else  I  want  to  speak 
about,"  continued  Godfrey.-  "  Have  you  got 
those — those  papers  safe  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  have  them,"  Nathan  exclaimed, 
eagerly.  "  Can  you  explain  the  mystery  about 
them  ?" 


214  IN   THE.  DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

Godfrey  shook  his  head.  "  It  is  a  mystery," 
he  replied,  "  and  a  deep  one.  I  only  know  this. 
The  day  after  the  battle  of  Monmouth,  while 
our  army  was  at  Middletown,  Major  Langdon 
sent  Simon  Glass  and  a  squad  of  dragoons  to 
Wyoming  to  get  those  papers.  I  don't  know 
why  I  was  sent  along,  and  I  never  knew  until 
last  night  that  the  papers  were  the  property  of 
your  father.  And  Glass — -who  is  the  worst 
ruffian  I  ever  knew — has  tried  his  best  to  get  all 
of  your  party  killed  ever  since  he  learned  you 
were  bound  for  the  same  place.  That's  why  he 
was  so  savage  with  me  last  night,  when  I  ap- 
pealed to  Colonel  Butler  to  spare  your  lives." 

"  I've  had  an  idea  of  what  was  going  on  for 
some  time  past,"  said  Barnabas.  "I  seen  a 
mighty  ugly  look  in  Major  Langdon's  eyes 
when  he  stood  over  Captain  Stanbury  on  the 
battle-field.  That's  when  he  overheard  about 
the  papers,  but  what  in  the  name  of  creation 
did  he  want  with  them?  Could  your  father 
have  known  him  before,  lad— over  in  England  ?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  Nathan.     "  I  never 


A   MYSTERIOUS    ISLAND    PLAYS   A   PART      215 

heard  him  speak  of  Major  Langdon.  In  fact,  I 
don't  know  anything  about  my  father's  past. 
But  I  believe  the  secret  to  this  mystery  lies  over 
the  sea,  and  I'll  tell  you  why." 

He  went  on  to  relate  the  visit  of  Mr.  Noah 
Wa-xpenny  to  the  Indian  Queen,  and  how  he 
had  asked  information  concerning  both  Richard 
Stanbury  and  Major  Langdon.  This  was  new 
to  Godfrey  and  Barnabas,  and  all  three  discussed 
the  matter  earnestly,  but  without  coming  any 
nearer  a  solution. 

"  We've  got  to  have  patience,  an'  wait,"  said 
Barnabas.  "  That's  the  only  thing  to  do.  The 
papers  are  safe,  anyway,  an'  this  fellow  from 
London  may  clear  up  the  mystery  if  we  run 
across  him.  Or  your  father  may  turn  up,  lad — " 

"  Perhaps  Godfrey  knows  something  about 
him,"  exclaimed  Nathan.  "  Did  the  British 
carry  off  any  prisoners  after  the  battle  of  Mon- 
mouth  ?" 

"  Not  that  I  know  of,"  replied  Godfrey.  "  I 
saw  or  heard  of  none ;  but  then  I  was  in  front 
during  the  retreat." 


216  IN   THE   DAYS    OF   WASHINGTON 

"  My  father  is  alive,"  declared  Nathan.  "  I 
am  sure  of  it." 

"I  hope  so,"  said  Godfrey.  "Speaking  about 
those  papers,"  he  added,  "  I  feel  a  good  bit  wor- 
ried. If  Glass  gets  it  into  his  head  that  you 
have  them — as  he  probably  will,  when  he  -has 
dug  over  the  ruins  of  the  cabin — he  is  sure  to 
follow  you  up." 

"  It's  hardly  likely,"  replied  Barnabas.  "An' 
then  he  can't  ketch  us  anyway,  pervidin'  the 
currents  and  depth  of  water  hold  good.  No, 
lad,  I  think  we're  done  with  Simon  Glass,  as  far 
as  this  expedition  is  concerned.  There,  Mrs. 
Cutbush  has  got  breakfast  ready.  She's  calling 
us." 

Barnabas  and  the  two  lads  found  no  further 
opportunity  that  day  to  discuss  the  mystery  of 
Major  Langdon  and  the  papers.  It  was  a  day 
of  hard  and  unremitting  toil.  There  had  been 
a  long  spell  of  dry  weather,  and,  as  the  river 
gradually  widened,  its  channel  became  more  and 
more  obstructed  by  grass-bars,  shallows,  and 
outcropping  ledges.  Doubtless  the  preceding 


A    MYSTERIOUS    ISLAND    PLAYS   A    PART      217 

boats  had  found  a  ready  passage,  but  the  aban- 
doned flat  that  Proud  and  Cutbush  had  tinkered 
up  under  the  spur  of  necessity  was  broad,  heavy, 
and  leaky.  Cato  was  constantly  kept  busy  bail- 
ing water,  and  rudder  and  poles  were  of  little 
aid  to  navigation.  Every  few  minutes  all  of 
the  party  except  Mrs.  Cutbush  and  Molly  were 
compelled  to  get  out,  and  by  their  united 
strength  drag  the  craft  over  the  shallows. 

By  ten  o'clock  that  night  less  than  twelve 
miles  had  been  covered,  and  the  exhausted  men 
could  proceed  no  further.  They  encamped  on 
a  patch  of  sand  and  scrub  in  mid-channel,  and 
took  turns  at  guard  mounting  until  morning. 
Mrs.  Cutbush  and  her  daughter  slept  in  the  flat, 
on  a  comfortable  bed  of  dried  grass,  that  was 
protected  from  the  damp -planks  by  an  under- 
layer  of  pine  boughs. 

"  We're  about  thirty  miles  below  Wilkesbarre, 
now,"  said  Barnabas,  as  the  journey  was  resumed 
after  breakfast,  "  an'  it's  a  good  twenty  miles  yet 
to  the  main  river,  where  we'll  strike  deep  water 
an'  the  shelter  of  the  lower  forts.  If  I  thought 


218  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

the  wadin'  and  haulin'  was  to  last  another  day 
I'd  suggest  we  take  to  footin'  it  on  shore." 

"  It  would  be  a  wise  plan,"  agreed  Godfrey. 
"  At  the  speed  we've  been  making,  a  force  of 
Tories  and  Indians  could  have  overhauled  us 
twice  over,  and  they  may 'do  it  yet.  You  don't 
know  Simon  Glass." 

"  Don't  I  ?"  Barnabas  interrupted  grimly.  "I 
reckon  I  do.  But  honestly,  lad,  I  believe  he's 
given  up  the  chase.  It's  best  to  take  precau- 
tions though, -an'  that's  why  I  spoke  of  walkin'." 

"It  won't  be  easy  for  me,"  declared  Proud, 
shaking  his  head.  "  I've  got  a  sprained  ankle." 

"And  my  little  gal,  who  ain't  no  light  weight, 
would  have  to  be  carried,"  added  Cutbush. 

"I've  been  down  the  river  twice  before,"  said 
Nathan,  "  and  I'm  pretty  sure  that  the  lower 
part  of  the  North  Branch  is  deeper  than  up 
here." 

Several  others  suddenly  remembered  the  same 
fact,  from  past  experience,  and  so  it  was  decided 
to  stick  to  the  flat.  Godfrey  alone  favored  a 
land  journey,  and  he  could  not  hide  his  appre- 


A    MYSTERIOUS    ISLAND    PLAYS    A    PART       219 

hension  at  the  choice.  "  If  they  knew  Simon 
Glass  as  I  do,"  he  said  to  himself,  "they  wouldn't 
lose  any  time  in  getting  below  the  forts." 

However,  after  three  hours'  repetition  of  the 
previous  day's  labors,  the  channel  actually  did 
become  deeper  and  less  obstructed.  In  con- 
sequence the  current  was  more  sluggish,  but  the 
flat  drifted  steadily  on  for  mile  after  mile,  and 
there  was  a  fair  prospect  of  reaching  the  main 
river  that  evening. 

Early  in  the  afternoon  a  magnificent  buck 
with  large  antlers  burst  out  of  the  woods  on  the 
south  bank,  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  below, 
plunged  precipitately  into  the  water,  and  swam 
for  the  opposite  shore. 

"  Something  scared  it,"  said  Nathan. 

"A  bear  or  a  wolf,"  replied  Barnabas. 

"Or  a  man,"  Godfrey  suggested  uneasily. 

Barnabas  did  not  answer.  He  thoughtfully 
watched  the  animal  until  it  mounted  the  bank 
and  disappeared,  and  after  that  an  extra  wrinkle 
or  two  remained  on  his  furrowed  brow.  During 
the  afternoon  he  scanned  both  shores  intently, 


220  IN   THE    DAYS    OF   WASHINGTON 

and  furtively  examined  the  muskets  to  see  that 
all  were  loaded. 

The  sun  faded  in  a  haze  of  gold  and  purple, 
and  the  shroud  of  night  fell  on  lonely  mountain 
and  river.  There  was  no  moon,  and  through 
the  blackness  the  flat  gurgled  on  its  watery  way. 
An  hour  after  dark  a  misty  object  loomed  out 
of  mid-stream.  It  was  an  island,  and  as  the 
upper  point  drew  near,  Cutbush  gave  the  rudder 
a  twist  that  sent  the  flat  into  the  channel  on  the 
left, 

"  It's  the  proper  course,"  he  explained,  "  and 
the  one  that  we  boatmen  take.  T'other  side  is 
full  of  rocks  and  shallows." 

"  But  there's  a  bit  of  rapids  below,"  said  Mc- 
Nicol,  "  if  my  ears  don't  deceive  me." 

"  They're  no  account,"  replied  Cutbush. 
"There's  a  clean  passage  through  toward  the 
shore  side." 

He  swung  the  boat  further  to  the  left,  and  it 
glided  silently  along  within  fifty  yards  of  the 
bank,  and  three  times  that  distance  from  the 
island. 


A    MYSTERIOUS    ISLAND    PLAYS    A    PART       221 

"  I've  got  my  bearin's  exactly  now,"  said  Bar- 
nabas. "  That's  what  they  call  Packer's  Island 
acrost  from  us,  an'  a  mile  or  so  down  yonder 
on  the  right  is  the  settlement  of  Northumber- 
land, where  the  North  an'  West  Branches  meet. 
We'll  be  on  the  main  river  in  half  an  hour." 

"  I  want  to  stop  at  all  the  forts  on  the  way 
down,"  said  Nathan,  "  because  the  soldiers  may 
have  had  late  reports  from  the  army,  and  can 
tell  me  if  my  father — " 

"  Look  out,  sir,"  Godfrey  eagerly  interrupted, 
turning  to  Cutbush.  "  We're  running  straight 
into  a  little  island.  Don't  you  see  it  ?" 

The  men  were  grouped  in  the  stern  at  the 
time,  and  Godfrey's  warning  cry,  coming  so 
suddenly,  startled  and  confused  Cutbush.  The 
result  was  that  he  sharply  twisted  the  rudder 
the  wrong  way,  sending  the  flat  farther  toward 
the  shore,  and  in  a  direction  where  the  depth 
of  the  channel  was  very  doubtful. 

Cutbush  did  not  discover  his  .mistake  until 
the  others  called  his  attention  to  it.  Then  he 
saw  what  they  meant.  Close  ahead  a  triangu- 


222  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

lar  promontory  of  rock  and  timber  jutted  in  a 
gradual  slope  some  forty  yards  beyond  the  nor- 
mal line  of  the  b.ink,  and  thirty  feet  straight 
out  from  its  apex  lay  the  island  to  which  God- 
frey had  reference.  The  location  was  an  odd 
one,  and  it  was  a  decidedly  queer-looking 
island — a  long,  narrow  cluster  of  bushy  pine 
trees,  pointing  up  and  down  stream,  and  thickly 
fringed  at  its  base  with  bushes  that  seemed  to 
grow  straight  out  of  the  water. 

"  It's  risky  to  try  that  passage/'  said  Barna- 
bas, pointing  to  the  thirty-foot  channel  between 
island  and  promontory,  whither  the  flat  was  now 
steadily  drifting.  "  We  may  find  shoals  there." 

"  I  give  the  rudder  a  wrong  turn  without 
thinkin',"  muttered  Cutbush.  "  But  it's  not 
shoals  I'm  afraid  of.  If  we  float  down  yonder 
I  won't  have  time  to  steer  for  the  rift  through 
the  falls,  and  they're  only  fifty  yards  below." 

As  he  spoke  he  tried  to  rectify  his  mistake, 
and  the  first  two  sweeps  of  the  rudder  veered 
the  nose  of  the  flat  away  from  the  bank.  The 
third  swung  it  broadside  across  stream,  and  in 


A   MYSTERIOUS    ISLAND    PLAYS    A   PART      223 

this  position  it  bore  down  on  the  little  island, 
with  a  slight  diagonal  trend  toward  the  wider 
and  safer  channel  on  the  outer  side.  But  there 
was  hardly  time  for  this  movement  to  take 
effect,  and  the  danger  of  striking  was  so  appar- 
ent that  Cutbush  let  go  of  the  rudder — which 
was  as  good  as  useless  while  the  flat  was  turned 
broadside — and  snatched  up  one  of  the  poles. 
He  drove  it  in  off  the  stern,  leaned  after  it  till 
he  almost  stood  on  his  head,  and  then  rose  up 
with  both  arms  wet  to  the  elbow. 

"  The  pole  won't  touch !"  he  exclaimed. 
"  There's  easy  twelve  foot  of  water  here." 

"  Twelve  foot  of  water !"  cried  Barnabas ; 
"  an'  that  island  only  ten  yards  below !  It  ain't 
nateral,  man !" 

"We're  going  to  strike  the  island,'r  said 
Nathan.  "  Try  again." 

"  No,  it's  all  right,"  interposed  Barnabas. 
"  We're  movin'  slow,  an'  there  ain't  any  gravel 
beach  as  I  can  see  to  stick  on.  The  rear  end 
will  strike  easy,  an'  then  the  flat  will  swing  out 
toward  the  far  channel." 


224  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

So  Cutbush  dropped  the  pole  and  the  boat 
drifted  on  broadside  with  the  current,  its  occu- 
pants calmly  waiting  the  moment  of  collision. 
As  the  distance  decreased  from  ten  yards  to  five, 
Barnabas  craned  his  neck  forward,  and  shaded 
his  eyes  to  peer  over  the  lower  bulwark.  "  It's 
queer,"  he  muttered.  "  I've  been  here  before, 
an'  I  don't  mind  seein'  that — " 

Just  then  a  startling  thing  happened.  The 
whole  island  was  seen  to  lurch  visibly  to  one 
side,  and  at  the  same  instant  something  flashed 
and  glittered  amid  the  fringe  of  bushes. 

"  Look  !"  Godfrey  whispered,  hoarsely. 

"Down  for  your  lives,  men  !"  yelled  Barnabas. 
"  It's  a  trap !  Keep  low,  an'  don't  let  'em  get 
aboard." 

The  entire  party  dropped  like  a  flash,  and 
grabbed  their  muskets.  A  terrible  instant  of 
silence  followed,  broken  by  a  howl  from  Cato 
and  a  whimper  of  fright  from  Molly,  who 
was  lying  flat  on  the  bottom  in  her  mother's 
arms.  Then  a  volley  of  shots  rang  out  from 
the  fiendishly  contrived  ambuscade,  and  more 


A    MYSTERIOUS    ISLAND    PLAYS    A    PART       225 

than  one  ball  tore  through  the  thick  bul- 
wark. 

But  happily  no  one  was  hurt,  and  Barnabas, 
McNicol,  and  Nathan  at  once  fired  through  the 
three  loopholes  at  which  they  were  posted.  A 
yell  of  agony  blended  with  another  fusillade 
from  the  unseen  foe,  and  now  a  quicker  current 
drove  the  heavy  flat  broadside  against  the  mys- 
terious little  island. 

There  was  a  crash  of  timber  meeting  timber 
and  a  sound  of  branches  smiting  the  water. 
Then,  with  shrill  and  blood-curdling  yells,  four 
painted  Indians  scrambled  over  the  bulwark  and 
dropped  into  the  boat.  At  the  same  instant  a 
little  one-eyed  man,  holding  a  musket  high 
overhead  in  one  hand,  pulled  himself  aboard  at 
the  bow. 


15 


CHAPTER  XIII 


IT  is  more  than  likely  that  the  Senecas  and 
their  white  allies  underestimated  the  strength 
of  the  party  in  the  flat,  or  else  the  discovery 
and  demolition  of  their  ambuscade  drove  them 
to  such  desperate  measures.  At  all  events,  they 
speedily  found  they  had  made  a  mistake,  and  in 
the  brief  and  sharp  struggle  that  followed  they 
got  scarcely  a  show. 

Of  the  four  Indians  who  scrambled  over  the 
bulwark  three  cleared  the  crouching  men  and 
landed  beyond  them,  and  the  fourth  fell  heavily 
on  top  of  Barnabas  and  McNicol.  Before  he 
could  use  his  tomahawk  he  was  pounced  upon 
by  the  Scotchman,  and  the  two  began  a  lively 
scuffle. 

Mrs.  Cutbush  carried  a  loaded  pistol  at  her 
waist,  and  while  she  pushed  Molly  behind  her 
226 


NATHAN    MAKES    A    PERILOUS    SWIM        227 

with  one  hand,  with  the  other  the  courageous 
woman  drew  the  weapon  and  shot  one  of  the 
three  remaining  Indians  through  the  head.  The* 
second  managed  to  inflict  a  severe  slash  with  his 
tomahawk  on  Cato's  arm,  and  then  Barnabas 
knocked  him  senseless  with  the  butt  of  his 
musket.  The  third  did  not  wait  to  be  killed, 
but  with  a  screech,  vaulted  over  the  far  side 
of  the  boat  and  disappeared,  narrowly  escaping 
a  shot  that  Cutbush  sent  after  him. 

At  that  moment  the  Seneca  who  was  strug- 
gling with  McNicol  broke  away,  leaving  his 
tomahawk  in  the  other's  hand,  and,  as  he 
bounded  for  freedom,  Morgan  Proud  jumped  in 
front  of  him.  They  grappled,  and  fell  heavily 
against  the  bulwark.  The  wall  of  timbers  gnve  * 
way  under  the  strain  and  both  splashed  into 
the  river. 

There  was  a  quick  rush  to  that  side  to  help 
Proud,  but  he  and  the  Indian  had  disappeared 
utterly. 

As  the  missing  man's  friends  anxiously 
scanned  the  water,  a  Tory  belonging  to  the 


228  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

attacking  party  scrambled  up  in  the  stern  of 
the  boat.  McNicol  instantly  saw  him  and  fired, 
and  the  man  dropped  back  with  a  cry. 

Meanwhile,  during  the  entire  struggle,  Simon 
Glass  had  been  crouching  unseen  amid  the  deep 
shadows  at  the  bow  of  the  flat,  from  which 
place  of  vantage  he  had  more  than  one  oppor- 
tunity for  a  certain  shot  at  his  enemies.  Now, 
just  as  McNicol  fired  at  the  Tory  in  the  stern, 
Nathan  caught  sight  of  the  figure  at  the  oppo- 
site end.  With  his  empty  musket  in  his  hand 
the  lad  ran  toward  the  spot,  little  dreaming  of 
the  man's  identity,  or  that  he  was  affording 
Glass  just  the  opportunity  for  which  he  had 
been  watching  and  waiting. 

The  ruffian  rose  a  little  higher,  leveled  his 
rifle,  and  fired.  But  for  the  second  time  he 
missed  his  victim  at  close  range,  the  ball  whizz- 
ing within  a  fraction  of  an  inch  of  Nathan's 
ear.  The  report  drew  the  attention  of  the 
others,  and  Godfrey  discovered  and  shot  at  the 
Tory  just  as  he  made  a  bound  to  escape.  He 
half  jumped,  half  fell,  into  the  water,  and  all 


NATHAN    MAKES   A    PERILOUS   SWIM        229 

ran  eagerly  to  the  bow  of  the  boat,  which  was 
now  drifting  slowly  down  to  the  falls. 

"  Was  that  Simon  Glass,  lad  ?"  exclaimed 
Barnabas. 

"Yes,"  declared  Nathan,  "and  he  very  nearly 
finished  me !" 

"There  he  is!"  cried -Godfrey,  as  a  dark 
object  rose  to  the  surface  near  the  verge  of  the 
falls.  An  instant  later  it  slipped  over  and 
vanished,  nor  could  it  be  seen  again.  Equally 
futile  was  the  search  for  Morgan  Proud  and 
the  Indian  ;  beyond  a  doubt  they  had  perished 
together. 

"It's  no  use,"  muttered  Barnabas.  "Poor 
Proud  is  gone.  But  I  have  my  doubts  about 
that  Tory  ruffian.  He's  got  as  many  lives  as  a 
cat,  an'  it's  possible  he's  makin'  for  shore  now, 
out  of  sight  yonder  below  the  falls." 

"Where's  the  rest  of  the  party?"  said 
McNicol.  "  It  ain't  possible  we  cleaned  them 
all  up.  We'd  better  be  looking."  With  this 
he  led  his  companions  back  to  the  stern,  past 
the  bodies  of  the  two  Indians.  Mrs.  Cutbush 


230  IN    THE    DAYS    OF   WASHINGTON 

was  engaged  in  binding  up  Cato's  wounded  arm, 
and  Molly  was  sobbing  hysterically  from  fright 
as  she  clung  to  her  mother's  gown. 

The  whole  affair  had  transpired  in  such  brief 
time  that  the  cumbrous  boat  had  moved  only  a 
short  distance.  In  plain  view  above  was  the 
mysterious  little  island,  now  readily  seen  to  be 
a  long,  narrow  canoe  trimmed  with  bushes  and 
pine  boughs.  The  collision  with  the  flat  had 
upset  it,  but  it  still  rested  stationary  on  the 
water,  showing  that  it  was  anchored. 

There  was  no  sound  or  motion  in  the  near 
vicinity,  but  a  subdued  splashing  in  the  channel 
between  the  canoe  and  the  promontory  told 
clearly  enough  that  some  survivors  of  the  enemy 
were  swimming  to  the  shore. 

"  It  ain't  likely  they  can  do  us  any  more 
harm,"  said  Barnabas,  "  for  I  reckon  their  guns 
an'  powder  are  wet.  Of  all  the  infernal  tricks 
I've  heard  of,  that  was  the  neatest.  They  got 
ahead  of  us  by  land,  run  across  that  canoe 
somewhere,  an'  anchored  it  yonder,  where  they 
knew  we'd  have  to  pass  within  close  range." 


NATHAN    MAKES   A    PERILOUS   SWIM        231 

"  And  expecting  to  pour  in  a  volley,  while 
we  were  exposed  above  the  bulwarks,"  replied 
Nathan. 

"  Exactly,  lad,"  assented  Barnabas,  "  only  we 
didn't  give  'em  a  chance."  Turning  to  Cut- 
bush,  he  added  :  "  Better  take  the  rudder,  man  ; 
we're  nearly  at  the  falls." 

Just  then  Mrs.  Cutbush,  who  was  in  the  bow, 
uttered  a  cry,  -and  a  tongue  of  fire  was  seen  to 
leap  up  from  the  bed  of  dry  grass  in  the  middle 
of  the  boat.  Evidently  a  bit  of  wadding  had  lain 
there  smouldering,  and  now  a  breeze  had  fanned 
it  into  a  blaze. 

Godfrey  was  nearest,  but  before  he  could  get 
to  the  spot  the  fire  reached  an  open  powder- 
horn  that  lay  in  the  grass.  It  blew  up  with  a 
dull  report,  and  instantly  the  whole  bed  was  a 
mass  of  hissing,  roaring  flames.  And  in  the 
very  midst  of  the  blaze,  where  it  had  been 
thrown  that  morning  to  protect  it  from  the 
damp  floor,  lay  the  cask  of  powder.  All  real- 
ized at  once  their  terrible  danger. 

"  It's  too  late  to  outen  the  fire,"  cried  Bar- 


232  IX   THE   DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

nabas.  "  The  explosion  may  come  any  moment ! 
Jump  for  your  lives!" 

Just  then  the  flat  swung  over  the  falls, 
quivered  and  tossed  amid  the  rocks  and 
waves,  and  darted  on  to  the  deep  and  sluggish 
water  below.  Barnabas  and  Cutbush  sprang 
past  the  flames  to  the  bow,  the  former  taking 
Molly  in  his  arms,  and  the  latter  grabbing  his 
wife.  They  and  Cato  sprang  into  the  river  at 
the  same  time  that  McNicol  and  the  two  lads 
jumped  from  the  stern,  and  as  hard  as  they 
could  the  whole  party  swam  out  toward  mid- 
channel,  scarcely  heeding  the  two  shots  that 
were  fired  at  them  from  the  cover  of  the  bank. 
They  safely  gained  a  cluster  of  rocks  with  a 
fringe  of  gravel  at  the  base,  and  from  behind 
this  shelter  they  turned  to  watch  the  blazing 
flat  as  it  drifted  by  at  a  distance  of  twenty 
feet. 

They  had  hardly  looked  when  a  terrific  ex- 
plosion came,  casting  a  red  glare  all  around, 
and  seeming  to  shake  the  very  bottom  of  the 
river.  A  shower  of  sparks  and  splinters  fell, 


NATHAN   MAKES   A    PERILOUS   SWIM        233 

and  huge  waves  rolled  in  all  directions.  For 
a  second  or  two  the  shattered  craft  bobbed  up 
and  down,  still  blazing  here  and  there.  Then 
it  lurched  under  and  disappeared,  and  darkness 
and  silence  settled  on  the  scene. 

The  situation  of  the  little  party  was  now  dis- 
heartening. They  were  stranded  on  a  rocky 
bar  well  out  in  the  channel,  dripping  wet,  and 
without  means  of  safely  getting  away.  They 
were  almost  defenseless  in  case  of  an  attack,  and 
to  attempt  to  swim  to  shore  would  be  a  desperate 
and  foolhardy  proceeding  under  the  circum- 
stances. 

But,  in  the  stupor  that  followed  the  explosion, 
the  first  impression  of  the  castaways — one  and 
all — was  a  feeling  of  intense  gratitude  for  the 
perils  they  had  escaped,  and,  before  they  could 
realize  how  badly  off  they  still  were,  a  faint 
shout  came  floating  over  the  water,  and  a  dark 
form  was  seen  struggling  toward  the  rocks 
from  a  ledge  higher  up  stream  and  nearer  the 
bank.  The  swimmer  made  a  gallant  fight 
against  the  current,  and  when  he  finally  gained 


234  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

the  bar  all  were  surprised  and  overjoyed  to 
recognize  Morgan  Proud. 

"  Given  me  up,  had  you  ?"  the  plucky  fellow 
exclaimed,  as  he  clasped  hands  with  his  friends. 
"  Well,  I  had  a  close  call.  That  redskin  stuck 
to  me  till  we  went  over  the  falls.  Then  we 
parted  company,  and  after  I  reached  yonder 
rock  I  didn't  spy  him  again.  I  was  lying  over 
there  getting  my  breath  back  when  the  flat  took 
fire  and  blew  up." 

"  Did  you  see  anything  of  Simon  Glass  ?" 
inquired  Barnabas. 

"  He  shot  by,  swimming  like  a  fish,"  declared 
Proud,  "and  I  lost  sight  of  him  among  the 
ledges  and  shoals  below  my  rock.  I  daresay 
he  got  safe  to  shore." 

"  I'm  sure  he  did,"  Barnabas  muttered  grimly. 
"  So  that  ruffian  is  still  alive,  an'  there's  likely 
half  a  dozen  more  to  keep  him  company.  We're 
in  a  pretty  tight  place,  comrades.  We  can't 
make  the  far  shore  without  a  boat,  an'  if  we  try 
to  swim  to  yonder  bank  it  means  certain  death. 
Glass  an'  what's  left  of  his  party  are  prowliu' 


KTATHAN    MAKES    A    PERILOUS   SWIM        235 

about  on  watch  now — you  heard  them  fire  twice 
as  we  were  swimmin'  away  from  the  boat.  An' 
the  worst  of  it  is  that  we're  defenseless." 

Immediate  investigation  proved  the  old  wood- 
man to  be  right.  Nathan  and  McNicol  alone 
had  held  on  to  their  muskets  when  they  plunged 
from  the  flat,  and  Mrs.  Cutbush  had  her  empty 
pistol.  But  all  the  weapons  were  wet  and  use- 
less, and  though  several  of  the  party  had  a 
supply  of  ball,  the  only  powder  that  had  sur- 
vived the  explosion  was  a  small  quantity  in 
Proud's  water-proof  ^horn. 

"  It's  aggravating  to  think  how  near  we  are 
to  the  forts  and  to  Northumberland,"  said 

* 

Nathan.  "  Glass  will  hardly  dare  to  prowl 
about  the  neighborhood  long." 

"  I'm  sure  he  won't  leave  yet,"  muttered 
Godfrey ;  "  that  is,  if  he  knows  we  are  here." 

"He  does,  lad,"  replied  Barnabas.  "The 
light  of  the  burning  flat  showed  us  up  plainly 
when  we  reached  the  rocks.  The  enemy  will 
do  one  of  two  things.  The  first — which  is  to 
come  down  an'  attack  us  in  their  canoe  up  yon- 


236  IN   THE   BAYS    OP   WASHINGTON 

der — I  consider  unlikely.  The  second  is  that 
they'll  lie  hid  in  the  timber  till  morning,  ex- 
pectin'  we'll  believe  they've  gone  then,  an'  we'll 
venture  over  to  shore." 

"  Hurrah  !"  exclaimed  Nathan,  who  had  sud- 
denly conceived  a  brilliant  idea ;  "  I  know7  how 
to  outwit  them  nicely,  Barnabas,  provided  they 
don't  try  the  first  of  those  two  plans." 

"How,  lad?" 

"  Why,  the  canoe,  of  course !  I  can  get  it 
by  swimming  over  to  the  big  island,  running 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  up  the  shore,  and  then 
swimming  quietly  down  and  over  to  the  spot." 

"  But  Glass  or  some  of  the  Indians  may  be 
up  there  now,"  said  McNicol. 

"  No,"  replied  Nathan,  "  I'm  sure  they  are 
all  straight  across  here  watching  to  get  a  shot. 
And  they  won't  see  me  leave  if  I  keep  down  in 
the  water." 

"  The  lad  is  right,"  declared  Barnabas.  "  It's 
a  good  plan,  but  a  mighty  risky  one,  since  we 
can't  be  certain  of  the  whereabouts  of  the 
enemy.  But  I'll  go  myself." 


NATHAN    MAKES    A    PERILOUS    SWIM        237 

''  I  only  wish  I  could,"  muttered  Godfrey, 
"  but  I'm  a  wretchedly  poor  swimmer." 

"  No,  I'm  going,"  insisted  Nathan.  "  I  am 
long-winded,  and  ever  since  I  can  remember  I 
could  swim  like  a  fish." 

"  Don't  risk  your  young  life,  my  brave  boy," 
pleaded  Mrs.  Cutbush.  "  Leave  this  to  some 
of  the  older  men." 

But  Nathan  refused  to  yield,  and  since  he 
was  obviously  the  best  fitted  for  carrying  out 
the  undertaking,  and  the  canoe  offered  the  only 
means  of  escape  for  the  party  from  a  most 
perilous  situation,  a  reluctant  consent  was 
finally  given. 

"  Take  this  to  cut  the  canoe  loose,"  said  Bar- 
nabas, handing  the  lad  a  sharp  knife.  "  You'll 
likely  find  it  anchored  by  a  rope." 

Nathan  stripped  off  all  but  his  light  trousers, 
put  the  hilt  of  the  knife  between  his  teeth,  and 
swam  quickly  away  from  the  outer  edge  of  the 
rocks,  followed  by  anxious  eyes  and  heartfelt 
wishes  for  his  safety. 

Packer's  Island  extended  some  distance  below 


238  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

the  falls,  as  well  as  above,  and  the  current 
drifted  Nathan  nearly  to  the  lower  point  before 
he  struck  shallow  water.  He  waded  the  re- 
mainder of  the  distance,  and  then  ran  briskly 
up  the  bushy  and  sandy  shore.  The  night  was 
dark,  but  he  could  dimly  make  out  the  jutting 
promontory  when  he  came  opposite  it.  He 
continued  five  hundred  yards  further  toward 
the  head  of  the  island,  and  then  softly  entered 
the  water  for  his  diagonal  swim  of  rather  more 
than  a  quarter  of  a  mile. 

Only  his  head  peeped  over  the  surface  and  a 
slight  ripple  trailing  behind  him  was  all  that 
marked  the  gentle  strokes  of  his  arms  and  legs. 
He  was  soon  in  mid-channel,  from-  where  he 
could  darkly  make  out  the  canoe.  He  swam  to 
a  point  ten  feet  above  it,  and  dropped  down  with 
the  stealth  of  a  mink.  As  he  drew  nearer  he 
saw  that  the  craft  lay  bottom  up,  and  was  held 
by  a  tow  rope  running  down  into  the  water  from 
the  bow.  A  couple  of  half-submerged  pine 
boughs  still  clung  to  it. 

The  lad   caught   hold  of  the  rope  with  one 


NATHAN    MAKES    A    PERILOUS    SWIM        239 

hand,  and  with  the  other  he  took  the  knife  from 
between  his  teeth.  He  was  about  to  slash  when 
a  husky  screech  made  his  blood  run  cold,  and 
he  looked  up  to  see  the  painted  face  of  an  Indian 
glaring  at  him  within  ten  inches. 

The  redskin  had  evidently  been  shot  in  the 
first  volley  from  the  flat,  and  had  been  clinging 
to  the  canoe  ever  since,  too  badly  hurt  to  cry  out 
or  to  swim  to  shore.  But  the  sight  of  a  hated 
foe  revived  his  strength,  and  on  the  very  sec- 
ond that  he  made  his  presence  known  he  sprang 
at  Nathan  and  clutched  his  throat. 

Down  went  both,  entangled  with  the  rope, 
and  tearing  it  loose  from. the  anchorage  in  thei? 
struggles.  The  lad  kept  one  hand  free,  and 
while  he  held  his  breath  he  stabbed  repeatedly 
with  the  knife.  After  a  few  terrible  seconds 
the  grip  on  his  neck  relaxed,  and  he  shot  to  the 
surface. 

The  Indian  did  not  reappear,  and  Nathan 
lost  no  time  in  striking  for  the  canoe.  He 
swung  it  around  by  the  dangling  rope,  and 
started  to  swim  with  it  down-stream.  Bang ! 


240  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

went  a  musket  from  the  promontory,  and  a  bul- 
let whistled  overhead.  A  second  shot  followed 
after  an  interval  of  half  a  minute,  but  now  lad 
and  canoe  were  on  the  verge  of  the  open  passage 
through  the  falls.  They  went  plunging  down 
the  slope  of  spray  and  waves,  and  three  minutes 
later  Nathan  skillfully  landed  his  prize  on  the 
outer  side  of  the  cluster  of  rocks. 

Nathan's  safe  return  was  a  joyful  disappoint- 
ment, for  his  friends  had  given  him  up  when 
they  heard  the  firing.  In  a  few  words  the  lad 
told  the  story  of  his  adventurous  swim,  and 
some  of  the  tributes  to  his  bravery  made  him 
blush. 

"Now  let's  be  off  while  we've  got  the  chance," 
cried  Barnabas.  "  I  judge,  from  the  shootin', 
a  part  of  the  varmints  are  still  lurkin'  above 
the  falls." 

So  the  canoe  was  turned  right-side  up.  and 
the  fugitives  hurriedly  embarked.  They  were 
a  little  crowded,  but  that  discomfort  they  did 
not  mind. 

Either   the  enemy's   weapons  were  empty,  or 


NATHAN    MAKES    A    PERILOUS    SWIM        241 

else  they  could  not  see  what  was  taking  place 
for  the  darkness  of  the  night.  At  all  events, 
no  shots  were  fired  from  the  bank,  and  presently 
a  swifter  current  took  the  canoe  past  the  distant 
lights  of  Northumberland  and  out  into  the  broad 
channel  of  the  main  river.  The  two  muskets 
were  reversed  and  used  for  paddles,  and  an  hour 
before  midnight  the  fort  at  Shamokin  was  safely 
reached. 

Here  the  weary  fugitives  were  warmly  wel- 
comed, and  provided  with  supper  and  lodging. 
Barnabas  extracted  .the  packet  of  papers  from 
his  boot,  and  after  drying  tliem  over  a  fire  he 
restored  them  to  their  hiding-place.  Much  to 
Nathan's  disappointment,  no  news  had  lately 
been  received  from  the  army ;  but  the  tidings 
of  the  Wyoming  massacre  had  traveled  quickly, 
and  great  alarm  was  felt  lest  the  enemy  should 
advance  down  the  Susquehanna  to  raid  the  ex- 
tensive military  stores  at  Carlisle. 

Cato  was  unfit  for  travel,  and  Proud  and 
Cutbush,  with  the  latter's  family,  decided  to 
remain  at  Shamokin  fort  for  a  few  days. 
16 


242  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

McNicol  also  wished  to  stay,  so  that  he  might 
visit  a  married  sister  who  lived  at  the  settle- 
ment of  Northumberland. 

So,  at  dawn  the  next  morning,  Barnabas 
and  the  two  lads  said  good-bye  to  their 
friends,  and  resumed  their  journey  down  the 
river  in  the  canoe,  satisfied  that  Simon  Glass 
would  give  them  no  further  trouble.  Indeed, 
they  were  by  no  means  sure  that  the  ruffian 
had  escaped  drowning. 

Below  the  point  of  junction  of  the  two 
branches  the  current  of  the  Susquehanna  was 
very  swift,  and  the  little  party  traveled  rapidly. 
They  made  brief  stops  at  McKeesport  and.  the 
Halifax  fort,  where  they  found  the  same  igno- 
rance prevailing  concerning  the  seat  of  war. 
Just  as  the  sun  was  setting  they  came  in  sight 
of  Fort  Hunter,  which  stood  on  a  jutting  bluff 
half  a  mile  above  the  beautiful  Kittoch tinny 
Gap,  where  the  river  flings  itself  over  a  barrier 
of  rocks  as  it  leaves  the  mountains  behind. 

Barnabas  hauled  the  canoe  high  and  dry 
under  the  stockade,  and  led  his  companions  up 


NATHAN    MAKES    A    PERILOUS    SWIM        243 

the  bank  and  around  to  the  gate.  A  sentry  was 
on  guard,  and  after  a  little  questioning  he  passed 
the  party  through.  As  they  went  across  the 
yard  they  observed  a  horse  tied  to  a  post ;  the 
animal  was  saddled  and  bridled,  and  showed 
traces  of  recent  hard  riding. 

In  the  middle  room  of  the  block-house  some- 
thing of  a  stirring  nature  seemed  to  be  taking 
place.  The  new  arrivals  heard  voices  raised  in 
shrill  and  angry  dispute,  and  as  they  entered 
they  saw  two  soldiers  roughly  pushing  a  man 
toward  a  door  at  one  side  of  the  room. 

The  prisoner  was  strenuously  resisting,  and 
clamoring  to  be  set  free,  and  in  his  struggles  he 
revealed  his  face  to  Nathan.  With  a  thrill  of 
excitement  the  lad  recognized  the  last  man  he 
could  have  expected  to  find  here. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

IN    WHICH   NATHAN   FEIGNS     SLUMBER   TO     SAVE 
HIS   LIFE 

"  UNHAND  me,  you  ruffians !"  cried  the  pris- 
oner, as  he  continued  to  resist.  "I  protest 
against  this  brutal  treatment.  I  protest  against 
so  unjust  a  sentence.  I  am  not  a  spy.  I  am  a 
non-combatant,  and  entitled  to  freedom.  I  was 
sent  to  this  country  on  a  legal  and  private 
matter  by  my  employers,  the  firm  of  Sharswood 
&  Feeman — " 

Just  then  one  of  the  soldiers,  losing  patience, 
struck  the  man  a  blow  between  the  eyes  that 
felled  him  to  the  floor.  He  was  too  stunned  to 
make  any  further  resistance  or  appeal,  and  his 
captors  flung  him  into  the  room  and  slammed 
the  door. 

"  Lad,  that — that  ain't  the  lawyer  chap  you 
spoke  of?"  inquired  Barnabas,  as  he  observed 
Nathan's  agitation. 
244 


NATHAN    FEIGNS     SLUHBEK  245 

"  The  very  same !"  Nathan  cried,  excitedly 
"  Noah  Waxpenny,  of  London,  who  came  to  the 
Indian  Queen  that  night !" 

"  The  man  who  wanted  information  of  your 
father  and  Major  Langddn  ?"  Godfrey  asked, 
incredulously. 

"  Yes,  that's  the  one,"  exclaimed  Nathan. 
"  I'm  sure  he  can  clear  up  the  mystery.  I  must 
speak  to  him  right  away." 

The  lad  was  too  excited  to  know  what  he  was 
doing,  and  before  his  friends  could  check  him 
he  made  a  rush  for  the  door  of  the  inner 
room.  But  the  officer  in  command  of  the  fort — 
an  ill-featured  sergeant— gave  him  a  push  that 
sent  him  reeling  back. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here  ?"  he  demanded. 
"  And  you  ?"  he  added,  turning  to  Barnabas  and 
Godfrey,  and  regarding  them  with  angry  sus- 
picion. 

Barnabas  briefly  explained,  and  the  sergeant 
was  somewhat  mollified  when  he  learned  that 
the  strangers  were  fugitives  from  Wyoming. 

"  It's  all  right,"  he  grumbled,  "  but  you  had 


246  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

no  call  to  interfere  with  my  duty.  Do  you 
know  that  spy  yonder  ?"  The  lad  here  spoke 
the  name  he  gives  himself — Noah  Waxpenny. 

"  Spy  ?"  exclaimed  Barnabas. 

"  Yes,  man  ;  I  said  spy.  I've  just  given  him 
a  trial,  and  to-morrow  morning  he  hangs." 

"  What  proof  have  you  of  his  guilt  ?" 

"  Plenty,"  declared  the  sergeant.  "  Didn't  he 
come  riding  by  here  a  bit  ago  on  his  way  up  the 
river  ?  And  didn't  we  find  a  paper  on  him  with 
the  written  name  of  Major  Gerald  Langdon,  an 
officer  in  the  British  army  ?  There  were  two 
other  names,  but  the  first  one  was  enough.  It's 
plain  as  daylight  that  the  man  was  sent  out  to 
spy  the  frontier  forts  along  here.  I've  found 
him  guilty,  and  I'm  going  to  hang  him." 

"  You'll  repent  it,  if  you  do,"  said  Barnabas, 
quickly.  "You'd  better  hold  the  man,  an'  re- 
port on  his  case.  There  ain't  enough  evidence 
to  hang  him,  an'  what's  more,  you  haven't  got 
the  authority." 

"  Man,  I  have  got  the  authority,"  thundered 
Sergeant  Murdock,  who  was  a  hard-headed  and 


NATHAN   FEIGNS    SLUMBER  247 

obstinate  Scotchman,  very  set  in  his  ways,  and 
with  an  exaggerated  idea  of  his  powers.  "  I'm 
in  charge  of  this  fort,  and  what  I  say  is  military 
law.  The  spy  hangs  at  daybreak,  and  I'll  report 
the  case  afterward — " 

"  Sir,  you  surely  won't  hang  this  prisoner  ?" 
interrupted  Nathan.  "  He  is  not  a  spy,  and  I 
can  prove  it.  Let  me  ask  you  one  question. 
Was  Hichard  Stanbury's  name  on  that  paper  ?" 

"Yes,"  growled  the  sergeant,  in  a  tone  of 
sudden  suspicion. 

"  Well,  Captain  Richard  Stanbury  is  my 
father,"  said  Nathan,  "  and  he  is  an  officer  in 
Washington's  army." 

"  Then  you're  the  lad  the  spy  was  bound  up 
the  river  to  look  for,  according  to  the  yarn  he 
tells,"  exclaimed  the  sergeant.  "There's  some- 
thing wrong  here.  I'm  thinking  I'll  have  to  put 
you  under  arrest — aye,  and  your  companions, 
too." 

"  Nonsense !"  muttered  Barnabas.  "  This 
foolery  has  gone  far  enough.  Don't  you  know 
me  any  more,  Murdock?  Have  you  forgot 


248  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

Barnabas  Otter,  who  was  a  private  in  your  own 
company  right  here  at  Fort  Hunter,  after  Brad- 
clock's  defeat?  Twenty  years  is  a  long  time, 
but  you  ain't  changed  much — " 

"  Man,  I'm  glad  to  see  you,"  cried  the  ser- 
geant, his  grizzled  face  breaking  into  a  smile. 
"Aye,  I  recognize  your  features  now.  And  can 
you  vouch  for  this  lad?" 

"With  my  life,"  declared  Barnabas.  "An' 
what's  more,  I  kin  vouch  that  the  man  in  there 
ain't  a  spy." 

"  You'll  have  to  prove  it  to  my  satisfaction," 
said  the  sergeant,  stiffly. 

"  I  can't  prove  anything,"  replied  Barnabas, 
"  because  it's  a  good  bit  of  a  mystery.  But  the 
plain  facts  of  the  matter,  as  far  as  we  know,  are 
these :  That  man  in  yonder,  Noah  Waxpenny, 
was  sent  over  here  from  England  on  legal  busi- 
ness— sent  over  to  find  Richard  Stanbury  an' 
also  this  Major  Langdon.  Whether  there's  any 
connection  betwixt  the  two  is  not  for  me  to  say. 
But  this  much  is  certain ;  your  prisoner  ain't 
a  spy.  An'  you  admit  yourself  that  the  fellow 


NATHAX    FEIGNS    SLUMBER 

was  comin'  up  the  river  to  search  for  Captain 
Stan  bury 's  son  here.  He  must  have  learned 
that  the  Captain  was  dead  or  a  prisoner,  an' 
that  the  lad  had  gone  to  Wyoming-:—" 

"And  he  expected  to  meet  me  among  the 
returning  fugitives,"  interrupted  Nathan.  "  I'm 
sure  that's  the  way  of  it." 

"  What  does  he  want  with  you  ?"  demanded 
Sergeant  Murdock. 

"I  can't  tell  you  any  more  than  Barnabas 
has  told  you,"  replied  Nathan.  "  It's  a  legal 
and  private  matter — I  am  certain  of  that  much. 
But  if  you  will  let  me  see  Noah  Waxpenny  he 
may  be  able  and  willing  to  explain  the  mystery. 
Please  let  me  speak  to  him  at  once,  won't  you, 
sir?" 

"No,  I  won't,"  snapped  the  sergeant.  "I 
don't  want  another  rumpus  around  here.  You 
haven't  proved  the  man's  innocence  and  the 
sentence  of  death  still  stands.  And  then  there 
was  a  third  name  on  that  paper — " 

"  Let  me  see  it,  Murdock,"  interrupted  Bar- 
nabas. 


250  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

"I've  no  objection,"  replied  the  sergeant,  after 
a  brief  hesitation.  He  and  Barnabas  withdrew 
privately  to  one  corner  of  the  room,  and  as  the 
latter  examined  the  paper  that  was  put  into  his 
hands  he  started  visibly  and  his  eyes  opened 
wide  with  astonishment.  For  some  minutes  he 
and  the  sergeant  conversed  earnestly  in  whis- 
pered tones,  and  then  they  came  forward  again. 

"  Lad,"  said  Barnabas,  "  my  old  comrade  has 
agreed  to  let  us  see  the  prisoner  in  the  morning. 
We  must  have  patience  till  then." 

"Aye,  you  can  see  him  in  the  morning,"  cor- 
roborated Sergeant  Murdock,  "  but  unless  the 
interview  clears  up  the  mystery  and  proves  the 
spy's  innocence  he  hangs  before  breakfast.  I'm 
a  man  of  my  word  and  you  can  count  on  what 
I  say." 

Darkness  was  now  coming  on  rapidly,  and 
while  the  sergeant  went  into  an  adjoining  room 
to  fetch  a  candle  Nathan  found  an  opportunity 
of  drawing  Barnabas  aside. 

"  You  saw  the  paper  ?"  he  whispered.  "  Did 
it  contain  any  clue?" 


NATHAN    FEIGNS     SLUMBER  251 

"  None  at  all,  lad." 

"And  whose  was  the  third  name  ?" 

"  I'll  tell  you  again,"  Barnabas  answered, 
evasively.  "Have  patience  till  morning,  and 
I'm  thinking  all  will  turn  out  right.  Mean- 
while let  the  matter  drop  and  don't  speak. 
Hush !  here  comes  Murdock  back." 

That  was  a  long  evening  for  Nathan.  It 
taxed  his  patience  sorely  to  think  that  he  could 
not  see  the  prisoner  until  morning — to  know 
that  the  man  locked  up  in  the  little  guard-room 
could  reveal,  among  other  secrets,  why  Major 
Langdon  had  made  such  desperate  efforts  to  get 
the  papers  that  were  buried  under  Captain  Stan- 
bury's  cabin  at  Wyoming.  Godfrey  was  almost 
equally  curious,  but  Barnabas  had  forbidden 
both  lads  to  allude  to  the  matter  openly,  and  the 
circumstances  were  such  that  private  speech  be- 
tween the  three  was  impossible. 

The  capture  and  examination  of  Mr.  Noah 
Waxpenny  had  delayed  supper,  and  after  the 
meal  was  over  Sergeant  Murdock  unbent  and 
became  quite  friendly.  He  showed  his  guests 


252  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

around  the  interior  of  the  fort,  pointing  out 
the  strong  features  of  the  stockade,  and  ex- 
hibiting with  pride  the  stores  of  lead  and 
powder,  casks  of  fresh  and  salt  beef,  and  barrels 
of  flour. 

"  I've  got  only  a  dozen  men  here,"  he  said, 
"  and  that's  as  big  a  garrison  as  the  fort  lias  had 
for  ten  years  past.  But  I'm  expecting  rein- 
forcements up  from  Harris's  Ferry  any  time 
now,  and  the  settlers  are  threatening  to  come  in 
on  account  of  the  rumor  that  Butler's  force  will 
be  marching  down  the  river  from  Wyoming." 

The  rest  of  the  evening  was  spent  on  the 
grassy  knoll  at  one  side  of  the  enclosure,  where 
Nathan  and  Godfrey  related  their  adventures  at 
Wyoming  to  an  interested  audience,  and  Barna- 
bas and  the  sergeant  discussed  old  times  between 
whiffs  of  their  pipes.  At  intervals  Noah  Wax- 
penny  could  be  heard  groaning  dismally,  or 
tramping  up  and  down  the  narrow  limits  of  his 
cell. 

At  ten  o'clock  Sergeant  Murdock  went  his 
round,  posting  one  sentry  inside  the  stockade 


NATHAN    FEIGNS     SLUMBER  253 

gate  and  another  at  the  rear  of  the  fort,  where 
a  small  window  opened  from  the  guard-room. 
A  third  was  put  on  duty  in  the  middle  room 
of  the  block-house,  with  instructions  to  watch 
the  prisoner's  door. 

From  the  left  of  this  middle  room  opened  the 
big  room  .where  the  privates  slept,  and  on  the 
right  were  the  guard-room  and  the  officers' 
quarters.  To  the  latter's  apartment,  which  con- 
tained a  number  of  straw  pallets  spread  on  the 
floor,  the  sergeant  led  his  guests.  "All  fixed, 
are  you?"  he  said.  "Good  night,  then,  com- 
rades." He  blew  out  the  candle,  turned  over, 
and  was  soon  snoring  loudly. 

A  little  later  the  slow  and  regular  breathing 
of  Godfrey  and  Barnabas  told  that  they,  too, 
were  slumbering.  Nathan  envied  them,  for  try 
as  he  would  he  could  not  induce  the  least  symp- 
tom of  drowsiness.  For  a  long  time  he  lay 
with  wide-open  eyes  and  active  brain,  thinking 
of  the  promised  interview  in  the  morning  and 
listening  to  the  occasional  footsteps  from  the 
adjoining  guard-room,  where  Noah  Waxpenny 


254  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

seemed  also  to  be  possessed  by  the  demon  of 
wakefulness. 

When  the  lad  finally  did  fall  asleep  from 
sheer  weariness  his  rest  was  disturbed  'by  hide- 
ous dreams.  From  one  of  these  he  suddenly 
awoke,  relieved  to  find  himself  safe  in  the  fort 
instead  of  battling  with  blood-thirsty  savages 
out  on  the  river. 

As  he  listened  to  the  regular  breathing  of  his 
companions  he  fancied  he  heard  a  low  groan 
from  outside,  and  almost  immediately  a  rustling 
noise  at  the  open  door  of  the  room  fell  on  his 
ear.  Closer  and  closer  came  the  soft  and  stealthy 
sound,  and  the  next  instant,  to  the  lad's  un- 
speakable horror,  the  dark  figure  of  a  man 
kneeling  on  all  fours  rose  at  his  very  side,  and 
a  hand  was  passed  gently  over  his  body. 

Nathan's  heart  almost  stopped  beating,  but  by 
a  tremendous  effort  he  choked  back  the  cry  that 
was  on  his  lips.  For,  at  that  moment,  his  eyes 
being  partially  accustomed  to  the  gloom,  he  saw 
that  the  man  held  a  glittering  knife  between 
his  teeth  ;  and  he  realized  that  at  the  first  shout 


NATHAN    FEIGNS    SLUMBER  255 

for  help  the  blade  would  be  plunged  into  his 
breast. 

He  was  terribly  frightened,  but  by  exerting 
all  his  will  power  he  succeeded  in  doing  what 
was  best  under  the  circumstances.  He  feigned 
sleep,  and  lay  perfectly  motionless.  Not  a 
muscle  quivered,  though  cold  sweat  started  on 
his  face  and  hands.  All  he  could  think  about 
was  that  glittering  knife.  It  did  not  occur  to 
him  to  wonder  who  the  man  was,  or  what  he 
wanted.  .  '.- 

The  unknown  intruder  was  deceived  by  the 
ruse.  With  both  hands  he  lightly  and  delib- 
erately pressed  every  part  of  the  lad's  clothing 
from  his  throat  to  his  feet.  Twice  he  went  over 
him,  and  then  a  whispered  curse  testified  to  his 
disappointment  at  not  finding  what  he  wanted. 
Next,  he  took  the  knife  from  between  his  teeth 
with  one  hand,  and  as  he  lifted  it  high  to  strike, 
he  turned  a  little  toward  a  window  in  the  side 
wall,  dimly  revealing  a  scarred  and  wrinkled 
face  with  but  one  eye. 

Nathan  uttered  a  shrill  cry,  and  grabbed  the 


256  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

descending  wrist  with  both  hands.  A  desperate 
jerk  lifted  him  upright,  and  he  heard  the  knife 
clatter  to  the  floor.  He  held  tight  for  a  second 
or  two,  and  then  a  blow  on  the  face  broke  his 
grip  and  hurled  him  back. 

He  sprang  quickly  to  his  feet,  crying  out  in 
chorus  with  his  companions,  who  were  now 
awake  and  stumbling  blindly  over  the  floor. 
He  saw  a  dark  figure,  followed  by  another,  rush 
into  the  yard.  Then  the  men  at  the  other 
end  of  the  block-house  woke  up  with  noisy 
clamor,  and  amid  all  the  din,  a  musket-shot 
rang  loud  and  clear. 

"  What's  wrong  ?"  demanded  Sergeant  Mur- 
dock.  "  Speak,  somebody !" 

"Simon  Glass  was  here,"  cried  Nathan.  "  He 
tried  to  kill  me.  He  just  ran  out !  Don't  let 
him  get  away !" 

The  name  of  the  Tory  ruffian  was  familiar  to 
all,  and  the  angry  and  excited  men  swarmed 
from  both  sides  into  the  middle-room.  A 
private  appeared  on  the  scene  with  a  lighted 
lantern,  and  by  the  yellow  glare  the  door 


NATHAX    FEIGNS    SLUMBER  257 

of  the  guard- room  was  discovered  to  be  wide 
open. 

"  The  spy  has  escaped,"  roared  the  sergeant. 
'•  This  is  Glass's  doing  !  I  wish  I'd  hung  the 
man  last  night!" 

"  Glass  didn't  come  here  for  that,"  declared 
Barnabas.  "  Waxpeuny  must  have  opened  the 
door  an'  run  fur  it  when  he  heard  the  row  in 
yonder  ;  an*  where's  the  sentry  ?" 

Just  then  a  clamor  rose  from  several  of  the 
men  who  had  hastened  outside.  Led  by  Ser- 
geant Murdock,  the  rest  of  the  party  ran  into 
the  yard,  and  at  one  side  of  the  door  they  found 
the  prostrate  body  of  the  sentry  who  had  been 
posted  in  the  middle-room.  The  man  was 
breathing  faintly,  and  his  swollen  and  purple 
face  showed  that  he  had  been  nearly  strangled 
to  death  by  a  pair  of  muscular  hands. 

With  shouts  of  vengeance  the  crowd  scattered 
in  different  directions,  but  a  cry  from  Barnabas 
brought  them  together  again  at  the  partly-open 
gate  of  the  stockade.  Here  lay  the  second  sentry 
stone  dead,  with  a  long  knife  buried  in  his  ribs. 
17 


258  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

"If  Simon  Glass  don't  die  for  this  may  I 
never  shoulder  a  musket  again !"  roared  the 
infuriated  sergeant.  "  It  was  a  sharp  trick  he 
played.  He  must  have  come  here  a  bit  ago, 
persuaded  the  sentry  to  admit  him,  and  then 
stabbed  the  poor  fellow  to  the  heart.  Next  he 
enticed  the  other  sentry  to  the  yard,  and  settled 
him,  too.  And  after  the  lad  here  discovered 
him  in  the  room  both  he  and  the  spy  darted 
out  the  gate." 

"  But  where's  the  third  sentry  ?"  cried  Bar- 
nabas, "  an'  who  fired  that  shot — Hark !  some 
one's  calling  now !" 

Indeed,  the  shouting  had  been  going  on  at 
intervals  since  the  first  alarm,  but  owing  to  the 
noise  and  excitement  the  man  had  not  been  able 
to  make  himself  heard.  The  sounds  came  from 
the  rear  of  the  block-house,  and  thither  the 
whole  party  ran  in  haste,  to  find  Private  Mick- 
ley  prancing  up  and  down  on  one  of  the  lookout 
platforms. 

"  Where' ve  you  been  ?"  he  yelled,  hoarsely. 
"  Why  didn't  you  come  sooner  ?  I've  been 


NATHAN    FEIGNS    SLUMBER  259 

keeping  watch    on   the    ruffian,   but    now  he's 
gone — escaped  in  that  big  canoe." 

"  Escaped !"  cried  Barnabas.     "  Why  didn't 
you  stop  him  ?" 

"  Man,  explain  yourself,"  roared  the  sergeant. 
"  Quick  !  find  your  tongue  !" 

"  Ain't  I  telling  you  ?"  sputtered  the  angry 
soldier.  "  Give  me  a  chance.  AVhen  I  heard 
the  first  yell  I  run  round  to  the  front  just  as  a 
little  man  dashed  out  the  door.  He  was  making 
for  the  gate,  but  when  he  seen  me  he  changed 
his  mind  and  cut  for  the  rear.  I  fired  at  him. 
and  missed,  and  just  then  out  pops  the  spy. 
Before  I  could  lift  my  empty  gun  he  was  past 
me  and  out  the  gate.  So  I  let  him  go,  and 
went  for  the  other.  I  got  round  here  in  time 
to  see  him  scramble  over  the  stockade.  I 
reckon  he  didn't  know  the  drop  that  was  below 
him,  for  when  I  looked  over  the  platform  he 
was  lying  stunned  in  the  bushes  down  yonder. 
I  kept  watching  him  and  singing  out  for  help, 
and  all  at  once  up  he  gets,  staggers  like  a 
drunken  man  to  the  canoe,  and  goes  a-paddling 


260  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

down  stream  with  all  his  might.  I'm  think- 
ing his  one  leg  was  broke." 

"  How  long  ago  was  this,"  thundered  the 
sergeant. 

"  Not  two  minutes,  sir." 

"Then  he  ain't  far  off,"  cried  Barnabas. 
"  Have  you  another  boat  handy  ?" 

"  There's  a  little  canoe  in  the  creek  above 
the  bluff,  with  two  paddles  in  it,"  replied 
Sergeant  Murdock. 

That  quickly  Barnabas  was  off,  calling  to  the 
lads  to  follow  him.  Nathan  and  Godfrey  were 
at  his  heels  as  he  scaled  the  stockade  at  the 
upper  end  and  plunged  down  the  sloping  bank 
to  the  creek.  They  found  the  canoe  at  once 
and  jumped  in,  and  a  moment  later  the  light 
craft  had  swung  from  the  creek's  mouth  to 
the  river.  The  lads  were  paddling,  and  Bar- 
nabas crouched  amidships  just  in  front  of  them. 

"  Murdock,  we're  goin'  to  get  the  assassin," 
he  shouted. 

"Good  luck  to  you  !"  the  sergeant  called  back. 
"  I  wish  I  was  as  sure  of  overhauling  the  spy." 


NATHAN    FEIGNS   SLUMBER  261 

The  canoe  was  quickly  past  the  fort,  gliding 
like  a  duck  on  the  swift  current,  and  now  the 
other  craft  was  dimly  sighted  about  a  hundred 
yards  down  stream. 

"  I  knew  he  couldn't  be  far,"  muttered  Bar- 
nabas. "  Paddle  hard,  lads.  He  can't  do  much 
with  that  heavy  boat.  This  is  going  to  be  the 
last  of  Simon  Glass,  or  else  the  last  of  me." 

"  We  have  no  weapons,"  exclaimed  Nathan. 

"  Neither  has  he,  lad,  or  he  would  a-fired  at 
the  sentry  who  tried  to  stop  him." 

"I  hope  he  won't  take  the  shore  when  he 
sees  we're  after  him,"  said  Godfrey. 

"  He's  too  badly  hurt  to  do  that,"  replied 
Barnabas.  "  No ;  we're  goin'  to  get  him.  I 
feel  it  in  my  bones.  He'll  pay  with  his  life  for 
venturin'  this  far  after  them  papers.  When  he 
lay  in  ambush  that  night  he  must  have  heard 
us  speak  of  stopping  at  the  forts,  an'  I  reckon 
he  tramped  all  this  distance  alone." 

During  part  of  the  above  conversation  a  bend 
of  the  river  had  concealed  the  fugitive  from 
view,  and  now,  as  the  pursuers  swung  around, 


262  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

the  two  canoes  were  seen  to  be  less  than 
forty  yards  apart.  Glass  was  close  to  shore, 
struggling  desperately  to  drive  his  heavy  and 
unwieldy  craft,  while  with  scarcely  any  effort 
Nathan  and  Godfrey  urged  their  lighter  boat 
forward. 

The  distance  rapidly  decreased  to  twenty 
yards — fifteen — ten.  Now  the  ruffian's  scarred 
face  could  be  seen  by  the  moonlight  that  was 
breaking  through  the  clouds,  as  he  looked  back 
at  quick  intervals.  And  shortly  ahead  of  him 
was  the  line  of  noisy  rapids,  white  with  dashing 
foam  and  spray,  black  with  outcropping  bowlders 
and  ledges. 

"  We'll  hardly  ketch  him  this  side  the  falls," 
muttered  Barnabas.  "  It  ain't  an  easy  passage. 
Watch  sharp  for  the  rocks,  an'  don't — " 

Just  then  Simon  Glass  dropped  his  paddle 
and  twisted  himself  around  in  the  stern.  "  1 
won't  be  taken  alive!"  he  yelled,  "and  I'll  kill 
one  of  you  first."  With  that  he  drew  a  big 
pistol,  leveled  it  at  Barnabas,  and  fired. 


CHAPTER  XV 

IN   WHICH    THE   MYSTERY  IS  VERY  NEARLY    EX- 
PLAINED 

JUST  at  this  critical  instant,  when  almost  cer- 
tain death  threatened  Barnabas,  a  fortunate 
thing  happened.  The  bow  of  the  Tory's  canoe 
struck  a  half-submerged  rock,  and  the  sudden 
jar  spoiled  his  aim,  so  that  the  bullet  passed  a 
foot  above  his  intended  victim. 

In  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  the  long  craft 
swung  around,  lodged  fore  and  aft  across  a  nar- 
row passage  of  the  falls,  and  turned  bottom  up. 
Out  went  Glass,  head-first  into  the  foaming 
waves  on  the  lower  side. 

There  was  no  time  for  his  pursuers  to  sheer 
off,  and  scarcely  an  instant  later  the  second 
canoe  crashed  into  the  obstruction  and  swung 
broadside  against  it,  though  luckily  without  cap- 
sizing. But  the  shock  pitched  Barnabas  out  of 
the  bow,  and  with  a  vain  attempt  to  grab  the 

263 


264  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

canoe  in  front  he  glided  off'  the  slippery  bottom, 
and  was  borne  down  the  stretch  of  boiling 
rapids.  The  lads  caught  a  brief  glimpse  of  him 
as  he  bumped  into  Glass,  who  had  lodged  on  a 
spur  of  rock  twenty  feet  away.  Then  both 
were  washed  off  by  the  furious  current,  locked 
together  in  a  desperate  struggle,  and  the  gloom 
hid  them  from  view. 

"  Barnabas  will  be  drowned  !"  cried  Nathan. 
"And  we  can't  do  anything  to  save  him !  We're 
stuck  tight !" 

"  We've  got  to  get  loose !"  exclaimed  God- 
frey, and  with  his  paddle  he  struck  the  forward 
boat  a  terrific  blow.  To  his  delight  it  grated 
free  at  the  stern  end  and  whirled  around,  and 
that  quickly  the  two  canoes  were  bounding  side 
by  side  amid  the  perilous  falls,  swinging  this 
way  and  that,  leaping  high  over  crested  waves, 
and  rebounding  from  the  cruel  rap  of  hidden 
ledges. 

Any  attempt  at  steering  was  out  of  the  ques- 
tion in  so  mad  a  current,  but  the  lads  hardly 
thought  of  the  danger.  Before  they  could 


THE    MYSTEfcY    NEARLY    EXPLAINED        265 

realize  it,  their  canoe  had  dashed  safely  down 
the  roaring,  raging  slope,  and  was  cleaving  the 
choppy  little  waves  that  marked  the  even  flow 
of  the  river  beyond  the  rapids. 

With  anxious  hearts,  and  with  a  fear  that 
they  dared  not  put  into  words,  Nathan  and  God- 
frey paddled  swiftly  along  on  the  current, 
eagerly  watching  ahead  and  out  toward  mid- 
channel,  and  over  to  the  near-by  wooded  shore. 
The  moon  was  under  clouds  again,  and  the  sur- 
face of  the  river  was  misty.  Frequently  they 
shouted  the  name  of  the  missing  man,  but  only 
the  sullen  voice  of  the  rapids  answered. 

When  they  had  gone  nearly  a  mile,  some 
lingering  hope  persuaded  them  to  turn  back.  So 
they  pushed  up  along  the  shore  from  eddy, to 
eddy,  scanning  every  patch  of  sand  and  gravel, 
every  clump  of  bushes,  and  constantly  calling 
Barnabas  by  name.  Hope  was  utterly  dead 
when  they  drew  near  the  falls,  and  now  Nathan 
grounded  the  canoe  in  a  little  cove.  Tears  were 
rolling  down  his  cheeks,  and  he  was  not  ashamed 
of  them.  "  We've  got  to  face  the  worst,"  he 


266  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

said,  hoarsely.  "  Barnabas  is  drowned.  He  and 
Glass  perished  together." 

"  Yes,  there's  no  doubt  of  it,"  assented  God- 
frey. "  I'm  awfully  sorry  for  you." 

"  If  we  could  only  find  the  body,"  said  Na- 
than. 

"But  we  can't,"  Godfrey  replied.  "The 
water  seems  to  be  deep  around  here,  and  they 
both  must  have  gone  to  the  bottom.  They  may 
not  come  to  the  top  for  a  day  or  two." 

Nathan  groaned.  "  This  is  terrible,"  he  ex- 
claimed. "  I  can  hardly  believe  it.  To  think 
that  Barnabas  is  dead — that  we  will  never  see 
him  again !  You  don't  know  how  brave  and 
noble  he  was — " 

"  Yes,  I  learned  that  much  during  the  last 
few  days,"  interrupted  Godfrey.  "  Believe  me, 
Nathan,  I  am  as  sorry  as  you  are.  To  know 
such  a  man  as  Barnabas  Otter  makes  me  feel 
sometimes  that  your  cause  will  triumph." 

Nathan  silently  clasped  the  other's  hand  and 
for  some  minutes  the  two  lads  sat  without  speak- 
ing, gazing  over  the  misty  waters  and  listening 


THE    MYSTERY    NEARLY    EXPLAINED        267 

to  the  sad  music  of  the  falls.  Then  both  heard 
a  distant  and  muffled  clatter  of  hoofs. 

"  Horsemen  !"  exclaimed  Nathan,  "  and  they 
are  coming  up  the  river  road.  I  must  see 
them." 

"  But  there  may  be  danger,"  remonstrated 
Godfrey. 

"No,  not  in  this  neighborhood.  It  is  too 
close  to  the  fort  and  to  Harris's  Ferry.  Come 
on,  Godfrey !" 

They  sprang  out  of  the  canoe  and  clambered 
up  the  wooded  bank,  reaching  the  road  just  as 
two  wagons  came  along,  escorted  by  six  mounted 
men.  Nathan  halted  the  party,  and  after  briefly 
explaining  that  he  and  his  companion  were 
fugitives  from  Wyoming,  he  told  what  had  hap- 
pened that  night  at  Fort  Hunter.  The  victims 
of  the  tragedy  were  known  by  name  to  the 
men,  and  they  expressed  genuine  sorrow  for  the 
death  of  Barnabas,  as  well. as  heartfelt  relief  at 
the  termination  of  Simon  Glass's  infamous 
career. 

"  We're  bound  for  Shamokin  fort  with  sup- 


268  JX    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

plies  sent  by  the  commissary-general  of  Penn- 
sylvania," stated  the  leader  of  the  party.  "  I 
suppose  you  lads  will  go  along  back  with  us  to 
Hunter's?  Just  hop  into  the  wagons  yonder." 

Before  either  could  reply  one  of  the  men  in 
the  rear  dismounted  and  came  forward.  With 
an  exclamation  of  surprise  he  clapped  Nathan 
on  the  shoulder. 

"Corporal  Dubbs!"  cried  the  lad.  "How 
did  you  get  here?" 

"  Why,  you  know  I  was  on  the  sick-list  the 
morning  the  Wyoming  troops  left  camp,"  the 
corporal  explained,  "  and  when  I  got  a  little 
better  the  general  sent  me  to  the  Board  of  War 
with  dispatches.  Then  I  learned  that  my 
brother  was  lying  up  at  McKee's  fort  with  a 
bullet  wound  he  got  at  Wyoming,  and  I'm  on 
my  way  there  now  to  see  him." 

"And  was  there  any  news  of  my  father  when 
you  left  camp  ?"  Nathan  asked  impatiently. 

"  That's  what  I  want  to  tell  you,"  replied  the 
corporal,  drawing  the  lad  aside.  "  Your  father 
is  lying  at  the  house  of  a  loyal  farmer  named 


THE    MYSTERY    NEARLY    EXPLAINED        269 

Welfare.  His  place  is  near  the  head  of  the 
Shrewsbury  River,  and  not  far  from  Mon mouth. 
Welfare  himself  brought  word  to  the  camp  the 
day  I  left.  He  said  the  captain  was  badly 
hurt,  and  wouldn't  be  able  to  be  moved  for  a 
month." 

Nathan  was  speechless  with  joy  for  a  moment. 
"  Then  my  father  is  really  alive  ?"  he  cried.  "  I 
was  sure  of  it.  And  do  you  think  he  is  still  at 
the  farmhouse?" 

"  I'm  pretty  certain  he  is,"  replied  the  cor- 
poral. "  I  don't  know  how  he  came  there,  or 
anything  about  his  injuries,  but  you  may  count 
on  it,  he  is  in  good  hands." 

"  I'm  going  straight  to  him,"  declared  Nathan. 
"  I'll  travel  day  and  night." 

Corporal Dubbs nodded  approvingly.  "That's 
the  best  thing  you  can  do,"  he  said.  "The 
sight  of  you,  lad,  will  be  better  than  medicine 
for  the  captain.  There's  a  stage  from  Harris's 
Ferry  to  Philadelphia  in  the  morning.  You 
can  catch  it  if  you  hurry.  Don't  forget  the 
place,  and  be  sure  you  ask  for  Jonas  Welfare. 


270  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

And  be  careful  when  you  get  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  the  Shrewsbury,  for  the  enemy  are 
making  raids  over  that  way  from  New  York." 

"  I'll  remember,"  assented  Nathan.  "  I  must 
go  now.  We  have  a  canoe  below,  and  I  mean 
to  catch  that  stage.  Will  you  tell  Sergeant 
Murdock  at  Fort  Hunter  that  Barnabas  is  dead 
and  ask  him  to  find  the  body  and — and — bury 
it—" 

The  lad's  voice  broke,  and  for  a  moment  he 
could  not  speak. 

"In  Barnabas's  left  boot,"  he  added,  "is  a 
packet  of  papers  that  he  was  taking  care  of  for 
me.  They  belong  to  my  father.  Will  you 
ask  the  sergeant  to  keep  them  until  they  are 
sent  for?" 

Corporal  Dubbs  readily  promised,  and  with  a 
hearty  clasp  of  the  lad's  hand  he  mounted  and 
rode  after  the  now  moving  wagon-train. 

Nathan  and  Godfrey  hurried  back  to  the 
canoe  and  were  soon  paddling  swiftly  down  the 
river.  The  roar  of  the  falls  faded  behind  them, 
and  when  a  curve  hid  the  fatal  spot  from  view, 


THE    MYSTERY    NEARLY    EXPLAINED        271 

Nathan  turned  with  tear-dimmed  eyes  for  a 
last  look. 

"  You  forgot  about  Noah  Waxpenny,"  said 
Godfrey,  when  the  lads  had  paddled  some  dis- 
tance in  silence. 

"So  I  did!"  exclaimed  Nathan.  "I  hope 
Sergeant  Murdock  won't  catch  him,  and  if  he 
does  I  don't  believe  he  will  dare  to  hang  him. 
As  for  that  mystery — why,  I'll  get  my  father 
to  explain  it." 

"  Then  you  are  going  straight  to  see  him  ?" 

"Straight,"  declared  Nathan.  "You  heard 
what  Corporal  Dubbs  told  me.  I'm  going  to 
travel  as  fast  as  I  can.  And  what  will  you  do, 
Godfrey,  I  don't  want  to  part — " 

"  Nor  do  I,"  Godfrey  said  hastily.  "At  least 
not  yet.  If  I  thought  I  could  safely  accom- 
pany you—" 

"  You  can,"  interrupted  Nathan.  "  I'm  sure 
of  that.  And  I  want  my  father  to  meet  you." 

Godfrey  smiled  sadly.  "  I'll  go  with  you," 
he  replied,  "  and  then  I'll  watch  for  a  chance  to 
take  boat  from  the  Shrewsbury  to  New  York. 


272  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

I  intend  to  report  to  Major  Langdon,  come 
what  may." 

"  I  suppose  that's  the  best  thing  you  can  do," 
assented  Nathan,  "  but  I  was  hoping  you  might 
have  changed  your  mind  about — " 

A  look  on  Godfrey's  face  made  him  stop  thus 
abruptly,  and  for  half  an  hour  nothing  was 
said.  Then  the  day  began  to  dawn,  and  about 
the  time  it  was  fully  light  the  stockade  and 
houses  of  Harris's  Ferry  hove  in  sight  around 
a  bend  of  the  river. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

IK    WHICH    A   PEEP   AT  THE    STATE-HOUSE   LEADS 
TO   AN    UGLY   ADVENTURE 

HARRIS'S  FERRY — now  the  populous  capital 
city  of  Harrisburg — was,  in  1778,  a  small  and 
unimportant  place.  John  Harris,  an  old  Indian 
trader  and  the  founder  of  the  town,  lived  here. 
Some  years  before,  he  had  made  the  acquaint- 
ance of  Captain  Stanbury,  when  the  latter 
stopped  at  the  ferry  on  a  trip  from  Philadelphia 
to  Wyoming.  Nathan  was  aware  of  this  fact,  and 
resolved  to  make  use  of  it  at  such  a  time  of  need. 
80,  after  the  lads  had  landed  and  given  their 
canoe  in  charge  of  an  old  boatman,  they  climbed 
the  river  bank  and  presented  themselves  at  the 
door  of  John  Harris's  big  stone  mansion. 

The  old  trader  was  at  breakfast,  early  as  was 

the   hour,  and   he  gave  his  visitors  a  cordial 

greeting  even  before  he  had  heard  their  story. 

Nathan's  explanation  gained   much   sympathy 

18  273 


274  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

and  a  ready  promise  of  assistance.  There  was 
little  time  to  spare,  but  the  lads  tarried  long 
enough  to  eat  a  hearty  meal.  That  finished, 
the  trader  took  them  to  the  bank  of  the  river 
directly  opposite  his  house,  and  pointed  out  the 
mulberry-tree  to  which  he  had  been  tied  by 
hostile  Indians  some  years  before,  and  where 
he  would  have  been  burnt  to  death  had  not  aid 
arrived  in  the  nick  of  time. 

Then,  in  haste  to  the  Three  Stars  Tavern  on 
Front  Street,  where  the  Philadelphia  coach,  with 
three  elderly  passengers  inside,  was  about  ready 
to  start.  John  Harris  paid  the  fares,  and  after 
shaking  hands  with  the  lads  and  bidding  them 
come  to  see  him  again,  they  mounted  to  the 
outside  seat  beside  the  driver.  A  couple  of 
minutes  later  the  blasts  of  the  coaching-horn 
rang  through  the  little  settlement,  and  the  long 
ride  had  begun. 

Nothing  worthy  of  special  mention  took  place 
during  the  journey.  Passengers  got  on  and  off, 
stoppages  were  made  for  fresh  horses  and  meals, 
and  the  nights  were  spent  at  wayside  towns. 


AN    UGLY    ADVENTURE  275 

The  lads'  incidental  expenses  were  paid  by  the 
driver,  in  accordance  with  secret  instructions 
given  him  by  the  kind-hearted  trader. 

Lancaster  was  reached  on  the  evening  of  the 
first  day,  and  here  the  night  was  spent.  The 
two  following  days  were  rainy,  and  the  muddy 
condition  of  the  roads  made  traveling  slow. 
The  lads  remained  outside,  sheltered  by  a  sail- 
cloth hood  that  was  stretched  over  the  top  of 
the  seat.  Under  other  circumstances  they  must 
have  enjoyed  the  journey,  but  the  shadow  of 
the  terrible  events  they  had  so  lately  passed 
through  was  still  upon  them.  They  could  not 
forget  the  horrors  of  Wyoming,  the  vexatious 
escape  of  Noah  Waxpenny,  and  the  tragic 
death  of  Barnabas  Otter  and  the  Tory  ruffian. 
Xor  was  the  future  free  from  worry.  Nathan 
felt  a  burning  impatience  to  reach  the  Shrews- 
bury, and  he  could  not  rid  himself  of  the  fear 
that  he  would  find  his  father  either  dead  or 
gone.  Godfrey,  on  the  other  hand,  was  con- 
cerned not  a  little  for  his  own  safety.  In  spite 
of  the  assurances  of  his  companion,  he  believed 


276  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

himself  to  be  in  danger.  And  there  was  some 
ground  for  this  fear.  The  lad,  though  not  a 
spy,  was  still  a  British  officer  and  loyal  at  heart 
to  the  cause  of  the  enemy.  And  he  was  on  his 
way  to  Philadelphia,  where  there  was  a  strong 
likelihood  of  his  being  recognized  as  one  of  that 
hostile  army  which  had  occupied  the  city  during 
the  previous  winter. 

Nathan  tried  to  inspire  his  friend  with  con- 
fidence, and  partly  succeeded.  Neither  cared  to 
be-  questioned  concerning  their  past  adventures 
and  their  future  plans,  so  they  held  aloof  at  all 
times  from  their  fellow-passengers.  The  driver 
was  a  garrulous  fellow,  but  fortunately  with  an 
inclination  to  do  all  the  talking  himself.  This 
just  suited  the  lads,  and  from  morning  till  night 
they  listened  with  feigned  interest  to  his  accounts 
of  coaching  experiences  and  his  remarks  on 
passing  scenery. 

On  the  evening  of  the  fourth  day  after  leav- 
ing Harris's  Ferry,  just  as  dusk  was  falling,  the 
coach  rumbled  down  to  Middle  Ferry  on  the 
Hchuylkill,  and  the  passage  across  in  a  big  flat- 


AN  UGLY  ADVENTURE          277. 

boat  was  quickly  made.  Then  followed  a  short 
ride  through  the  fields  and  woods  in  the  cool  of 
the  evening,  and  a  spirited  dash  down  Chestnut 
Street,  where  the  good  citizens  of  the  town  were 
smoking  and  gossiping  at  their  front-door  steps. 
Taranta,  taranta,  tara !  sounded  the  horn  as 
the  lumbering  stage  turned  into  Fifth  Street  at 
the  corner  of  the  State-House,  and  a  minute 
later  the  panting  steeds  drew  up  at  their  desti- 
nation— Homly's  Inn  at  Fifth  and  Walnut 
Streets.  The  painted  face  of  Benjamin  Frank- 
lin beamed  a  welcome  from  the  creaking  sign- 
board that  swung  under  a  lighted  lantern,  and 
there  was  further  encouragement  to  the  thirsty 
and  hungry  travelers  in  the  following  printed 
couplet : 

"  Come  view  your  patriot  father  !  and  your  friend, 
And  toast  to  freedom,  and  to  slavery's  end  !" 

Nathan  and  Godfrey  climbed  down  from  the 
high  seat,  and  stood  looking  about  them.  Of  the 
half-dozen  passengers  in  the  stage  some  had 
already  entered  the  inn,  and  others  had  trudged 
away  in  the  shadows  of  the  night. 


278  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

"  The  dear  old  town  again !"  said  Nathan  ; 
and  a  tear  glistened  in  his  eye.  "  It  seems  too 
good  to  be  true !" 

"  I  know  how  you  feel,"  replied  Godfrey, 
"and  I'm  sorry  I  can't  feel  that  way  myself. 
But  all  I'm  thinking  about  is  getting  away  from 
a  place  where  recognition  will  mean  danger." 

"  And  I'm  in  as  big  a  hurry  to  leave  as  you 
are,"  said  Nathan.  "There  are  miles  and  miles 
between  me  and  that  farm-house  on  the  Shrews- 
bury where  my  father  is  lying  wounded — per- 
haps dead." 

"  Not  that,"  Godfrey  answered  quickly. 
"  You  will  find  him  getting  well — I'm  sure  of 
it.  And  where  are  we  going  first  ?  Not  to  the 
inn,  I  hope — " 

"  No,"  interrupted  Nathan,  "  I'm  too  anxious 
to  see  Cornelius  De  Vries.  We'll  go  straight 
there,  and  get  supper  and  a  night's  rest,  and 
then  we'll  arrange  about  the  rest  of  the  jour- 
ney." 

"  Lads,  there's  good  cheer  to  be  had  inside," 
called  the  driver,  as  he  started  to  lead  the  horses 


AN    UGLY    ADVENTURE  279 

to  the  stable-yard.  "  Homly's  the  man  to  give 
you  a  meal  and  a  bed." 

"  Thank  you,  but  we  have  friends  here,"  Na- 
than replied. 

"All  right!   Good-bye,  and  good  luck  to  you  !" 

"  Good-bye !"  the  lads  answered  ;  and  then 
they  started  briskly  up  Fifth  Street.  They 
reached  Chestnut  Street,  where  there  were  plenty 
of  lights  and  people,  and  crossed  to  the  opposite 
side.  On  the  corner  Nathan  halted  and  turned 
around. 

"There's  no  danger,"  he  said,  noticing  his 
companion's  uneasiness.  "  We'll  go  on  in  half 
a  minute — I  want  to  take  a  look  at  the  State- 
House.  There's  a  light  in  the  big  hall,  and 
up  yonder  hangs  the  dear  old  bell — the  bell 
that  rang  out  liberty  for  us  two  years  ago." 

"  For  you,  not  for  me,"  Godfrey  gently  re- 
minded. 

"  Oh  !  I  forgot!"  Nathan  exclaimed  contritely. 
"  Forgive  me,  old  fellow.  I  should  have  known 
better  than  to  stop  you  here — we'll  go  on 


now." 


280  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

But  it  was  too  late.  During  that  brief  inter- 
val of  delay,  unobserved  by  the  lads,  a  ragged 
and  sinister-looking  man  of  middle  age  had 
been  staring  keenly  at  Godfrey,  whose  features 
were  partly  exposed  to  the  glimmer  of  a  street 
lamp.  Now  he  came  quickly  to  the  spot,  barring 
the  way  up  Fifth  Street  for  the  lads. 

"It's  you,  is  it?"  he  said  insolently,  with  a 
leer  of  malice  at  Godfrey.  "  I  thought  I  weren't 
mistaken.  And  what  are  you  doing  in  Phila- 
delphia, my  fine  British  officer?  Did  you  just 
wake  up  and  find  the  red-coats  gone  ?  Or  did 
you  come  over  from  New  York  to  look  about  a 
little—" 

"  You  are  mistaken,  my  good  fellow,"  inter- 
rupted Godfrey,  his  face  turning  slightly  pale. 

"  Get  out  of  the  way,"  Nathan  added  angrily. 
"  Don't  stop  us  here — " 

"  I'm  not  mistaken,"  the  man  asserted  loudly  ; 
"  not  a  bit  of  it.  I  know  who  I'm  talking  to — 
your  name's  Spencer,  and  you  were  here  with 
the  British  last  winter.  Don't  be  in  a  hurry  to 
get  away,  you  and  your  friend." 


AN    UGLY    ADVENTURE  281 

"Who  is  he — do  you  know  him?"  Nathan 
asked  in  an  undertone. 

"  I  do  now,"  Godfrey  whispered.  "His  name 
is  Burd,  and  he  kept  a  store  up  near  the  bar- 
racks. I  had  him  arrested  by  the  guard  for 
threatening  Major  Langdon.  He's  going  to 
give  us  trouble,  Nathan.  Look,  the  people  are 
beginning  to  notice  us — " 

"  Whispering  treason,  that's  what  you  are," 
exclaimed  the  ruffian.  "  No  such  doings,  my 
fine  fellows.  It's  lucky  I  saw  you — " 

"  We  must  get  away  at  once,"  muttered  Na- 
than. "  What  a  fool  I  was  to  stop  you  here ! 
Now  will  you  get  out  of  the  way  ?"  he  added  to 
the  man.  "  You're  making  a  mistake  that  will 
cost  you  dear — I  am  a  son  of  Captain  Staubury 
of  the  American  army,  and  a  soldier  myself — " 

"A  likely  story !"  sneered  the  ruffian ;  and 
that  quickly,  as  the  lads  started  to  move,  he 
threw  himself  upon  Godfrey  and  bore  him  hard 
back  against  the  corner  of  the  house.  "A  spy  ! 
a  spy !"  he  yelled  at  the  top  of  his  voice. 

Nathan  lost  his  temper  completely,  and  like 


282  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

a  flash  he  fetched  the  man  a  stunning  blow  in 
the  face  that  made  him  release  Godfrey.  A. 
second  blow  sent  him  staggering  to  the  edge  of 
the  sidewalk,  where  he  set  up  a  prodigious 
shouting  for  help. 

Clamor  and  confusion  followed,  and  escape 
for  the  lads  was  out  of  the  question.  As  they 
stood  side  by  side  against  the  wall  they  were 
quickly  hemmed  in  by  an  excited  mob,  and  so 
deafening  was  the  noise  that  they  could  not 
make  themselves  heard.  Men  came  running 
from  every  direction — citizens,  store-keepers, 
tavern  loungers,  lads  eager  for  a  fight,  and  a 
few  crippled  and  bandaged  soldiers. 

"  Spies !  spies  !"  they  howled.  "  Kill  them  ! 
hang  them !" 

Nathan,  feeling  himself  to  blame  for  the 
trouble,  stepped  a  little  in  front  of  Godfrey. 
He  had  a  pistol  in  his  pocket,  and  this  he 
pulled  out  with  a  flourish,  though  he  hoped 
to  avoid  the  necessity  of  using  it. 

"  Listen,  my  good  people !"  he  shouted. 
"  There  must  be  some  here  who  know  me.  I 


NATHAN    I'KESKNTED    HIS   PISTOL 


AN    UGLY    ADVENTURE  283 

am  an  American  soldier,  and  my  companion  is 
not  a  spy-^" 

It  was  no  use.  He  could  not  make  himself 
heard.  Closer  and  closer  pressed  the  mob,  in- 
flamed and  urged  on  by  the  ruffian,  Burd. 
The  sight  of  the  lad's  drawn  pistol  kept  the 
foremost  back  a  few  paces,  but  those  in  the  rear 
began  to  hurl  missiles.  Stones  and  clubs  struck 
the  wall  on  both  sides  of  Nathan,  and  a  rotten 
apple  burst  on  Godfrey's  shoulder.  The  crowd 
was  increasing,  and  the  clamor  was  waking 
noisy  echoes  in  other  quarters  of  the  town. 

Nathan's  pallor  gave  way  to  a  flush  of  anger. 
"  Keep  back !"  he  roared.  "  Keep  back,  or  I'll 
fire.  You  cowards !  Give  me  a  chance  to 
speak." 

The  uproar  deepened,  but  the  circle  widened 
a  little  at  the  ominous  look  of  the  weapon. 
Then,  just  as  a  rush  began  in  the  rear,  a  hoarse 
shout  of  "The  watch!  the  watch!"  rose  above 
the  clamor  of  voices.  The  sound  of  dull  blows 
were  heard,  and  right  and  left  through  the  part- 
ing crowd,  wielding  their  staves  at  every  step, 


284  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

came  a  dozen  men  of  the  town  watch.  At  their 
head,  and  seemingly  acting  as  the  leader,  was  a 
man  wearing  a  sword  and  a  military  coat. 
Without  ceremony  he  snatched  Nathan's  pistol. 

"  Keep  close  to  me,"  he  commanded,  "  and 
walk  boldly." 

At  once  the  men  of  the  watch  surrounded  the 
two  lads  and  led  them  quickly  across  Chestnut 
Street.  The  crowd  followed,  hooting  and  yell- 
ing, but  taking  good  care  not  to  venture  within 
reach  of  the  staves.  Right  into  the  State-House 
marched  the  officer,  the  watch,  and  the  prison- 
ers, and  a  moment  later  Godfrey  and  Nathan 
crossed  the  threshold  of  the  large  chamber  on 
the  eastern  side  of  the  first  floor — the  same  in 
which  the  memorable  Declaration  of  Independ- 
ence had  been  signed. 

Here  several  lights  were  burning,  and  a 
number  of  men  were  standing  about  in  groups. 
The  watch  had  halted  in  the  hall,  but  the 
officer  entered  with  the  lads,  and  turned  to  a 
man  who  had  just  come  forward.  The  latter 
was  tall  and  wore  a  long  cloak  of  light  ma- 


AN    UGLY    ADVENTURE  285 

terial.  As  the  glow  of  a  lamp  flashed  on  his 
face  it  revealed  the  familiar  features  of  Gen- 
eral Washington. 

"  Sir,  I  have  oheyed  your  orders,"  said  the 
officer.  "These  young  gentlemen  were  the 
cause  of  the  disturbance,  and  they  can  explain 
for  themselves.  I  think  you  will  recognize  one 
of  them— " 

"  Nathan  Stanbury  !"  exclaimed  Washington. 
He  held  out  his  hand,  and  the  stern  expression 
of  his  face  relaxed. 

"  It  is  I,  sir,"  replied  Nathan,  stammering  in 
his  surprise.  Before  he  could  say  more  two 
arms  were  thrown  around  him  from  behind,  a 
kiss  was  planted  on  his  forehead,  and  the 
familiar  voice  of  Cornelius  De  Vries  cried : 
"  My  dear  lad  !  God  be  praised  !" 

Again  and  again  the  worthy  old  Hollander 
embraced  the  lad,  giving  him  scarcely  a  chance 
to  breathe.  Finally,  in  his  delight,  he  turned 
to  Godfrey,  and  would  have  embraced  him  as 
well.  .  But  Washington  held  up  his  hand  with 
a  smile. 


286  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

"  Master  Stanbury,"  he  said,  "  I  did  not  ex- 
pect to  find  you  in  Philadelphia  so  soon,  nor 
was  I  certain  that  you  had  escaped  the  blood- 
shed at  Wyoming.  It  affords  me  the  highest 
pleasure  to  know  that  you  are  safe,  for  I  assure 
you  that  I  have  not  forgotten  your  valuable  and 
trusty  services  in  the  past.  But  a  short  time 
ago  I  was  telling  Master  De  Vries  how  gallantly 
you  fought  at  Mon mouth,  and  what  a  narrow 
escape  you  had  from  hanging  when  you  saved 
my  papers  at  Valley  Forge." 

"  You  do  me  too  much  honor,  sir,"  said  Na- 
than, with  a  blush. 

"  Not  enough,  my  brave  lad,"  replied  Wash- 
ington. "But  come,  I  forget  that  you  may 
speedily  fall  in  my  good  graces,"  he  added,  in  a 
jesting  tone,  "  since  you  are  accused  of  disturb- 
ing the  peace  of  this  good  and  loyal  town  of 
Philadelphia.  You  shall  give  me  an  explana- 
tion, and  account  for  your  companion." 

"  That  I  will  gladly  do,  sir,"  declared  Nathan. 

"  But  I  can  spare  you  only  a  little  time," 
added  Washington.  "  I  left  my  army  at  White 


AN    UGLY    ADVENTURE  287 

Plains,  on  the  Hudson,  and  made  a  quick 
journey  here  to  confer  with  some  of  my  Quaker 
friends  on  matters  of  importance.  I  must  be 
starting  back  by  morning,  and  before  my 
presence  becomes  generally  known  in  the  town. 
And  I  prefer  to  talk  apart  from  these  worthy 
gentlemen." 

He  led  the  way  to  a  far  corner  of  the  room, 
bidding  Cornelius  De  Vries  follow  himself 
and  the  lads.  With  as  much  brevity  as  pos- 
sible Nathan  told  his  story,  and  he  was  care- 
ful to  omit  nothing,  since  he  knew  that  the 
whole  truth  would  be  best  for  the  interests  of 
Godfrey. 

Washington  listened  intently,  now  smiling, 
now  frowning  at  parts  of  the  narrative.  "  I  have 
already  heard  the  news  from  Wyoming,"  he 
said,  when  the  lad  had  finished,  "  but  not  so 
clear  an  account  as  yours.  You  seem  to  have 
displayed  your  usual  bravery  and  clear-headed- 
ness, Master  Stanbury,  and  you  have  certainly 
had  more  than  your  share  of  perils  and  ad- 
ventures. I  deplore  the  loss  of  Barnabas  Otter, 


288  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

who  was  a  trusty  and  valuable  man,  and  I  re- 
gret that  you  have  not  fathomed  this  strange 
mystery  with  which  your  father  seems  to  be 
connected.  I  confess  that  it  has  a  deep  interest 
for  me.  As  for  the  recent  brawl  out  in  the 
street — why,  it  seems  that  you  are  not  to  blame. 
But  it  was  imprudent  for  your  companion  to 
have  entered  Philadelphia,  and  I  hardly  know 
what  disposition  to  make  of  him."  He  paused 
a  moment,  smiling.  "  Is  he  disposed  to  turn 
patriot  ?" 

"He  is  not,  sir,  with  all  due  respect  to  you," 
Godfrey  answered,  firmly. 

"  Let  him  accompany  me,  sir,"  exclaimed 
Nathan.  "  He  risked  his  life  to  save  myself 
and  my  friends.  He  is  not  a  spy,  and  he 
should  not  be  held  as  a  prisoner.  Help  him  to 
get  back  to  the  British  lines." 

Washington  shook  his  head.  "  I  can't  do 
that,"  he  replied.  "  I  can't  lend  my  aid  to 
such  a  purpose.  But  Master  Spencer  deserves 
to  be  rewarded  for  his  gallant  conduct,  which  I 
do  commend  most  heartily.  So  I  shall  let  him 


AN    UGLY    ADVENTURE  289 

accompany  you  to  Visit  your  father,  Master 
Stanbury,  and  I  dare  say  He  will  be  making  a 
little  trip  over  to  Long  Island  one  of  these 
days.  Is  that  satisfactory  ?" 

"  Quite  so,"  replied  Godfrey,  with  a  smile, 
"  and  thank  you,  sir." 

Washington  turned  to  Nathan.  "  Now,  my 
boy,  you  will  want  to  get  speedily  to  your 
father?"  he  asked. 

"  As  soon  as  possible,  sir,"  Nathan  replied, 
eagerly.  "  Please  tell  me  how  he  is  ?  Have 
you  heard  lately  ?" 

"  At  last  accounts  he  was  doing  well,  but  he 
was  not  able  to  be  moved,  else  I  should  have 
sent  a  party  for  him.  I  will  not  deny  that  he 
is  in  some  danger  of  capture  by  raiding- 
parties  of  the  enemy,  so  you  had  better  get  to 
him  without  delay.  What  is  your  opinion, 
Master  De  Vries  ?" 

"  I  agree  with  you,  sir,"  answered  the  Hol- 
lander, "  much  as  I  should  like  the  lad  to  spend 
a  day  or  two  with  me  in  Philadelphia.     But  it 
is  all  for  the  best." 
19 


290  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

"  Yes,  I  must  start  at  once,"  assented  Nathan. 
"  And  how  shall  we  go,  sir  ?  By  land  ?" 

"  I  think  not,"  replied  Washington ;  "  the 
roads  through  the  Jersies  are  bad  and  lonely, 
and  you  would  run  a  risk  of  meeting  bodies  of 
the  enemy.  As  it  happens,  there  is  a  sailing 
vessel  lying  now  down  at  South  Street  wharf, 
and  I  can  arrange  with  the  captain  to  take  you 
along  the  coast  and  up  the  Shrewsbury.  He 
and  his  crew  are  loyal  and  trusty  men,  and 
have  been  engaged  in  secret  service  for  me  for 
some  time  past.  Master  De  Vries,"  he  added, 
"  you  know  the  place  and  the  man.  Suppose 
you  make  the  necessary  arrangements  at  once, 
and  as  soon  as  that  is  done  the  lads  can  go 
secretly  to  the  river.  By  then  the  streets  will 
be  quiet." 

"  It  is  a  wise  plan,  sir,"  agreed  the  Hollander, 
"and  I  will  see  to  the  proper  arrangements." 

He  departed  immediately,  and  then  Wash- 
ington drew  Nathan  a  little  apart  from  God- 
frey. 

"  I  can  spare  but  a  moment  more,"  he  said, 


AN    UGLY    ADVEXTURE  291 

in  a  low  tone.  "  You  are  a  brave  lad,  Master 
Stanbury,  and  an  honor  to  your  country  and  to 
your  father.  I  shall  not  forget  you  in  the  fu- 
ture, and  I  predict  that  you  will  have  an  officer's 
commission  before  you  are  much  older.  I  will 
speak  to  you  of  other  matters  at  a  better  oppor- 
tunity. I  trust  that  you  will  reach  your  father 
safely,  and  that  he  and  you  will  speedily  be 
within  the  shelter  of  my  lines  at  White  Plains. 
When  you  leave  the  farm-house  with  him  come 
by  way  of  New  Brunswick,  where  you  will  find 
American  out-posts.  You  will  both  be  needed. 
A  battle  cannot  be  long  delayed,  and  by  this 
time  the  French  fleet  has  probably  arrived  off 
Sandy  Hook.  As  for  Master  Spencer,  to 
whom  you  owe  much — why,  I  leave  his  inter- 
ests in  your  hands,  and  I  trust  no  harm  will 
befall  him." 

Washington  shook  hands  with  both  lads,  and 
spoke  a  word  of  farewell.  Then  he  joined  the 
gentlemen  who  were  waiting  for  him,  and  an 
aid  shortly  conducted  Nathan  and  Godfrey  to 
another  apartment  of  the  State-House.  Here 


292  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

they  remained  three  hours,  at  the  end  of 
which  time  Cornelius  De  Vries  returned  to 
announce  his  complete  success.  The  town  WHS 
now  quiet,  and  the  lads  safely  reached  South 
Street  wharf.  It  was  not  quite  midnight  when 
they  parted  from  the  old  Hollander  and  went 
on  board  the  sloop  "  Speedswift,"  and  when  they 
came  on  deck  in  the  morning,  after  a  good 
night's  rest,  the  vessel  was  many  miles  down 
the  Delaware. 

No  British  men-of-war  were  met  with,  but, 
owing  to  bad  weather,  the  voyage  was  prolonged 
to  nearly  a  week — a  delay  that  sorely  tried 
Nathan's  patience. 

At  last,  one  dark  and  sultry  July  night,  the 
"  Speedswift  "  entered  the  mouth  of  the  Shrews- 
bury, and  sailed  cautiously  along  the  south 
shore. 

When  the  channel  became  shallow  a  small 
boat  was  lowered,  and  two  of  the  crew  rowed 
the  lads  to  a  point  near  the  head  of  the  river. 
The  captain,  who  knew  the  locality  thoroughly, 
went  along  with  the  party,  and  when  they 


AN    UGLY    ADVENTURE  293 

lauded  in  a  little  cove  he  poiuted  to  a  road  that 
skirted  the  north  shore  of  the  river. 

"That's  your  way,  my  young  gentlemen," 
he  said.  "  Follow  the  road  for  two  miles,  and 
you'll  come  to  Jonas  Welfare's  place.  You 
can't  miss  it,  for  it's  the  first  house." 

A  moment  later  the  boat  was  pulling  back  to 
the  vessel,  and  the  two  lads  were  walking  rap- 
idly toward  their  destination.  Nathan  was  in  a 
state  of  doubt  and  suspense — now  confident  of 
finding  his  father,  now  fearing  that  he  was  dead 
or  captured.  He  kept  Godfrey  almost  on  a  run, 
and  after  half  an  hour's  tramp  they  reached  an 
old  stone  farm-house  standing  in  a  yard  full  of 
pine  trees. 

Xo  light  was  to  be  seen,  and  with  a  fast- 
beating  heart  Nathan  mounted  the  porch  and 
rapped  on  the  door.  It  was  opened  almost 
immediately  by  an  elderly  man,  who  carried  a 
candle  in  his  hand. 

He  looked  at  the  lads  suspiciously,  and  with 
an  air  of  disappointment,  and  then  gruffly 
demanded  their  business. 


294  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

"Are  you  Jonas  Welfare?"  Nathan  asked, 
eagerly. 

"  That's  my  name,  sir." 

"  Well,  I  am  Captain  Stanbury's  son.  Is — 
is  he  still  here  ?" 

"  Captain  Stanbury's  son  ?"  exclaimed  the 
farmer,  incredulously.  "  Yes,  you  look  like 
him.  Come  right  in." 

The  lads  followed  Mr.  Welfare  into  the  hall, 
and  after  closing  and  barring  the  door  he  led 
the  way  to  an  apartment  on  the  left.  Here  a 
lamp  was  burning,  and  in  a  large  chair  sat 
a  bearded  man  with  sunken  eyes  and  pale  and 
hollow  cheeks.  With  an  eager  cry  he  rose  to 
his  feet,  and  the  next  instant  Nathan  was 
clasped  in  his  father's  arms. 

Godfrey  discreetly  stepped  back  into  the  hall, 
and  when  he  entered  the  room  five  minutes  later, 
the  farmer  had  left  it  by  a  rear  door.  Nathan 
was  kneeling  by  his  father's  side,  and  the  cap- 
tain's hand  rested  lovingly  on  the  lad's  head. 

"  Who  is  this  ?"  he  asked,  looking  up.  "  Did 
he  come  with  you,  my  boy  ?" 


AN    UGLY    ADVENTURE  295 

"  He  is  an  old  friend,"  replied  Nathan, 
motioning  Godfrey  to  sit  down.  "  He  saved 
my  life.  But  I  will  explain  presently.  You 
have  been  very  ill,  father.  Are  you  getting 
better  and  stronger  now?  Tell  me  all  about 
it." 

"  I  have  improved  wonderfully  in  the  last 
week,"  replied  Captain  Stanbury,  "  though  it 
will  be  some  time  before  I  am  quite  myself 
again.  And  there  is  but  little  to  tell,  my 
boy." 

His  face  suddenly  became  grave,  and  he 
fixed  his  eyes  on  the  floor. 

"The  wound  I  received  at  Monmouth  was 
more  painful  than  dangerous,  and  when  I  came 
to  my  senses  I  was  a  prisoner  with  the  enemy's 
rear-guard  of  Hessians.  After  carrying  me 
some  miles  on  the  retreat  they  brutally  assaulted 
me  with  bayonets  and  clubbed  muskets,  and 
left  me  for  dead  along  the  road.  This  kind- 
hearted  farmer  found  me  and  brought  me 
here,  and  to  him  and  his  faithful  wife  I  owe 
my  recovery." 


296  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

"  I  was  sure  you  were  alive,"  said  Nathan. 
"  I  never  quite  lost  hope,  father,  and  now  you 
will  want  to  hear  my  story — 

"  Yes,  if  you  can  make  it  brief.  There  are 
reasons,  my  boy.  I  heard  of  your  perilous 
journey  through  Jonas  Welfare,  and  when  news 
of  the  Wyoming  massacre  reached  me  I  feared 
greatly  for  your  safety.  God  has  been  very  good 
to  us  both." 

"  I  will  tell  you  all  about  the  journey,"  said 
Nathan,  "  but  there  is  something  to  come  first." 
In  a  few  words  he  related  Noah  Waxpenny's 
visit  to  the  Indian  Queen  tavern,  and  men- 
tioned the  name  of  the  legal  firm  that  he  repre- 
sented. "  The  man  was  trying  to  find  you, 
father,"  he  added,  "  and  also  Major  Langdon,  of 
the  British  army." 

Captain  Stanbury's  face  turned  even  whiter, 
and  there  was  a  strange  look  in  his  eyes.  "  Shars- 
wood  &  Feeman,  Lincoln's  Inn!"  he  muttered, 
half  to  himself.  "  It  has  come  at  last,  after  all 
these  years  !  And  at  a  time  when  I  despise  and 
spurn  it  for  myself!  But  for  the  sake  of  my 


AN  UGLY  ADVENTURE  297 

son — "     He   paused  abruptly.     "  You    should 
have  told  me  this  before,  nay  boy,"  he  added. 

"I   had    so   little    chance,"  Nathan    replied, 
"  and  most  of  the  time  I  forgot  it." 
"And  have  you  seen  this  man  since  ?" 
"  That  is  part   of  my  story,  father.     I  am 
coming  to  it — " 

"  Go  on  quickly,  lad.  I  am  listening." 
Accordingly,  as  briefly  and  clearly  as  he  could, 
Nathan  described  his  adventurous  travels,  tell- 
ing how  desperately  Simon  Glass  tried  to  get 
the  papers  for  Major  Langdon,  and  how  God- 
frey saved  the  lives  of  the  prisoners.  He  told 
all  the  leading  incidents  of  the  cruise  down  the 
river,  and  concluded  with  the  escape  of  Noah 
Wax  penny  from  Fort  Hunter  and  the  sad  death 
of  Barnabas. 

Captain  Stanbury  listened  with  a  countenance 
as  rigid  as  marble,  and  when  the  story  was  done 
he  rose  to  his  feet  and  feebly  paced  the  floor 
half  a  dozen  times.  On  his  agitated  features 
were  depicted  grief,  passion,  and  unutterable 
horror.  Finally  he  paused  in  front  of  the  lads, 


298  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

and  took  Godfrey's  hand  in  his  own  cold  and 
trembling  grasp.  "  My  brave  boy,  I  want  to 
thank  you,"  he  said  hoarsely.  "  Your  conduct 
has  been  indeed  noble.  I  could  not  feel  more 
gratitude  and  respect  for  you  were  you  a  patriot 
at  heart,  instead  of  one  who  has  clung  to  the 
cause  of  oppression.  But  party  feeling  shall 
make  no  breach  between  us.  Sir,  you  are  a 
hero." 

Turning  to  Nathan  he  went  on  hastily,  and 
with  an  air  of  confusion  :  "  This  is  a  terrible 
story,  my  boy,  terrible.  I  hardly  know  what 
to  make  of  it.  By  God's  mercy  you  have  es- 
caped death  a  dozen  times  over.  And  so  'Bar- 
nabas Otter  •  is  dead !  You  say  he  perished 
with  this  Tory  ruffian.  A  braver  man,  and  a 
truer  friend  never  lived.  But  the  packet  of 
papers,  my  boy  ?  I  fear  they  are  lost." 

"  They  will  be  recovered  with  the  body,"  re- 
plied Nathan,  "  and  if  Noah  Waxpenny  has  not 
been  caught — " 

"  Never  mind  about  him,"  interrupted  Cap- 
tain Stanbury.  "  The  papers  are  the  most  irn- 


AN    FGLY    ADVENTURE  299 

portant,  and  for  your  sake  I  trust  they  will  be 
found." 

"  For  my  sake  !"  exclaimed  Nathan.  "  Father, 
what  does  this  mean?  Why  do  you  speak  and 
act  so  strangely  ?  What  did  Major  Langdon 
want  with  the  papers,  and  why  is  Noah  Wax- 
penny  seeking  you  both  ?" 

Captain  Stanbury  pressed  one  hand  to  his 
brow,  and  a  look  of  anguish  appeared  on  his 
face.  "  My  boy,  you  shall  know  all,"  he  said, 
in  a  tone  of  hoarse  resolve.  "  Sooner  or  later 
the  truth  would  have  to  come  out.  Major  Lang- 
don is — " 

Just  then  the  rear  door  opened  noisily  and 
Jonas  Welfare  hurried  into  the  room.  "  Cap- 
tain, they  are  coming !"  he  exclaimed.  "  I  hear 
the  tramp  of  the  horses  on  the  road." 


CHAPTER  XVII 

IN  WHICH  MR.  WAXPENNY  ASSERTS  THE  MAJESTY 
OF  THE  LAW,  ANET  THE  CURTAIN  FALLS 

"  COMING,  are  they  ?"  said  Captain  Stanbury. 
"  Well,  I  am  ready."  He  buttoned  his  coat 
across  his  breast,  and  picked  up  a  hat  that  lay 
on  the  table.  "  Can  you  furnish  a  couple  of 
extra  mounts,  Welfare?"  he  added. 

"  Yes,  I  can  fix  you,"  said  the  farmer.  "  I 
have  three  horses  in  the  barn." 

"  Father,  where  are  you  going  ?"  exclaimed 
Nathan. 

"  I  am  about  to  leave  this  noble  gentleman's 
house  for  a  safer  refuge,"  Captain  Stanbury  an- 
swered. "  To  be  brief,  my  boy,  I  fear  I  am  in 
some  danger.  Last  night  the  farmer's  hireling, 
a  surly  fellow,  whom  I  have  long  suspected,  van- 
ished mysteriously.  I  concluded  that  he  had 
gone  to  New  York  to  denounce  me,  and  Welfare 
shared  my  opinion.  He  spent  the  day  in  beat- 
300 


THE    CURTAIN    FALLS'  301 

ing  up  a  score  of  loyal  yeomen,  and  they  are 
now  here  to  take  me  to  New  Brunswick.  You 
and  Godfrey  will  go  along,  of  course.  The  fact 
that  the  enemy  have  been  raiding  almost  nightly 
between  here  and  Sandy  Hook,  made  a  large 
escort  necessary  for  my  safety." 

Meanwhile  the  muffled  sounds  of  hoofs  and  a 
jangle  of  equipments  had  been  heard  in  the 
yard,  and,  now,  just  as  the  Captain  finished  his 
explanation,  there  was  a  sharp  rap  on  the  front 
door. 

"  Is  that  you,  Ruggles  ?"  the  farmer  called 
loudly,  as  he  led  his  companions  into  the  hall. 

"  Yes,"  was  the  almost  inaudible  response. 
"  Open  quickly !" 

"  It's  a  strange  voice  !"  gasped  Welfare.  "We 
are  betrayed — the  enemy  are  here !" 

"  Already,"  murmured  the  Captain.  "  It 
can't  be  possible  !"  Godfrey  and  Nathan  turned 
pale. 

There  was  a  brief  wait,  and  then  the  rap  was 
repeated.  "Open  in  the  King's  name,  Jonas 
Welfare,"  demanded  an  angry  voice. 


302  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

"  Who  are  you  ?  What  do  you  want  ?"  cried 
the  farmer. 

"We  want  the  rebel  officer  whom  you  are 
sheltering,"  came  the  reply.  "  If  you  value 
your  life  you  will  let  us  in  at  once.  The  house 
is  surrounded,  and  it  is  useless  to  resist." 

Welfare  snatched  two  loaded  muskets  from  a 
rack  on  the  wall,  and  gave  one  to  the  Captain. 
"  The  first  red-coat  that  tries  to  break  into  this 
house,  dies,"  he  shouted  loudly. 

"  My  good  sir,  this  won't  do,"  Captain  Stan- 
bury  said  firmly.  "  You  shall  not  risk  your 
life  for  mine.  Open  the  door  and  let  them  take 
me."  - 

"  Never,"  declared  the  farmer.  "  I'll  protect 
you  as  long  as  I  can.  Man,  do  you  want  to 
end  your  days  on  one  of  those  rotten  prison 
ships  ?" 

"  I  am  likely  to  die  more  speedily,"  muttered 
the  Captain,  half  aloud,  and  a  terrible  expres- 
sion crossed  his  face.  "  You  had  better  open 
the  door,  Welfare,"  he  added,  "  but  first  find  a 
hiding-place  for  these  lads.  Their  presence 


THE   CURTAIN   FALLS  303 

can  hardly  be  known,  and  this  one  will  prob- 
ably be  hanged  if  he  is  found  here." 

"  I  know  that,  sir,"  interrupted  Godfrey, 
"  but  I  will  stand  by  the  rest  of  you." 

"And  so  will  I,  father,"  Nathan  cried, 
hoarsely.  "  Do  you  think  I  would  desert  you 
at  such  a  time?  Mr.  Welfare,  can't  you  give 
me  a  gun  or  a — " 

Crash !  A  musket  butt  thundered  against 
the  panels  of  the  door.  Crash !  crash  !  The 
blows  rained  hard  and  fast,  and  the  timbers 
began  to  split.  The  farmer  cocked  his  weapon, 
and  held  it  ready. 

"  I'll  keep  my  word,"  he  muttered.  "  If  we 
can  hold  out  a  bit  the  yeomen  may  arrive — " 

"  By  that  time  the  house  will  be  taken," 
cried  Captain  Stanbury.  "  There  is  only  one 
course,  Welfare."  He  stepped  toward  the  door, 
but  before  he  could  reach  it  the  report  of  a 
musket  rang  loudly,  and  a  clatter  of  hoofs  was 
heard  on  the  road.  Then  came  yells  and  cheers, 
the  pounding  ceased,  and  there  was  a  rush  of 
heavy  feet  off  the  porch.  Crack !  crack !  crack  ! 


304  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

Firearms  were  blazing  noisily,  and  the  night 
rang  to  the  din  of  angry  voices  and  frightened 
and  plunging  steeds. 

"  Our  fellows  have  arrived,"  cried  the  farmer, 
"  and  are  engaging  the  enemy." 

"God  grant  they  conquer!"  said  Captain 
Stanbury,  throwing  an  arm  around  Nathan's 
shoulder. 

For  two  or  three  minutes  the  fusillade  and 
din  lasted.  Then  a  bugle  note  rang  clear,  fol- 
lowed by  triumphant  shouts  and  furious  clatter 
of  hoofs. 

"The  enemy  are  off!"  cried  Welfare.  "We 
are  saved !" 

As  he  spoke  the  porch  echoed  to  the  tread 
of  many  feet,  and  hearty  voices  demanded 
admission. 

The  farmer  flung  open  the  shattered  door, 
and  half  a  dozen  sturdy  yeomen  pushed  into 
the  hall,  bearing  in  their  arms  a  motionless 
form  clad  in  a  red  coat. 

"  We  just  got  here  in  time,  Jonas,"  cried  the 
leader  of  the  party.  "  The  enemy  are  kitin' 


THE    CURTAIN    FALLS  305 

for  Sandy  Hook,  with  two-thirds  of  our  boys 
at  their  heels.  We  shot  three  of  'em,  but  we 
lost  poor  Lige  Garret.  And  here's  a  British 
officer  with  a  bullet  in  his  breast." 

"  Put  him  on  the  couch  in  the  room  yonder, 
Ruggles,"  said  the  farmer. 

The  wounded  man  was  borne  in  and  laid  down, 
and  a  pillow  was  pressed  under  his  head.  Nathan 
and  Godfrey,  who  had  drawn  near  out  of  curios- 
ity, were  startled  to  recognize  Major  Langdon. 

"  It's  all  up  with  him,"  said  Ruggles.  "  I 
know  the  signs.  A  little  brandy  might  make 
him  last  longer,  though  it's  a  doubtful  mercy." 

"  I'll  get  some,"  replied  Welfare,  hurrying  to 
a  closet  and  producing  an  earthen  jug.  A  drink 
of  the  potent  liquor  had  a  speedy  and  reviving 
effect  on  the  Major.  He  lifted  his  head  a  little, 
and  opened  his  glassy  eyes.  There  was  blood 
on  the  breast  of  his  coat,  and  a  few  drops 
oozed  from  his  lips. 

Just  then  Captain  Stanbury  came  forward, 
and  at  sight  of  the  wounded  officer  he  uttered  a 
low  cry. 
20 


306  IN   THE   DAYS    OF   WASHINGTON 

"  My  good  fellows,  I  wish  to  speak  to  this 
man  alone,"  he  said,  hoarsely.  "  Be  assured 
that  I  have  a  sound  reason.  Pray  leave  us 
together  for  a  few  minutes.  Nathan,  you  re- 
main. And  you,  too,  Godfrey." 

All  the  rest  left  the  room,  wondering  at  the 
Captain's  agitation  and  request.  Welfare,  who 
went  last,  softly  closed  the  door  after  him. 

For  a  moment  Major  Langdon  stared  silently 
at  Captain  Stanbury  and  the  lads,  and  it  was 
evident  that  he  knew  all  three.  His  face  was 
white  with  pain,  but  it  showed  no  trace  of  anger 
or  hatred.  In  his  eyes  was  a  look  of  unutter- 
able self-reproach  and  contrition. 

"Dick,"  he  whispered  faintly,  "this  is  the 
end." 

"Yes,  I  fear  it  is,"  said  Captain  Stanbury. 
"  God  have  mercy  on  you !  Nathan,"  he  added, 
"  this  man  is  my  younger  brother  Gerald — my 
brother  and  your  uncle !" 

"  Your  brother !"  gasped  Nathan,  and  God- 
frey uttered  a  cry  of  astonishment. 

"  It  is  a  strange  story,"  resumed  the  Captain. 


THE    CURTAIN    FALLS  307 

"  Let  me  tell  it  in  a  few  words.  My  father  was 
the  Earl  of  Ravenswood,  and  at  Ravenswood 
Court,  near  Nottingham,  in  England,  the  three 
brothers  of  us  were  brought  up.  Anthony,  the 
eldest,  died  in  1760,  and  that  same  year  I  mar- 
ried the  daughter  of  a  retired  sea-captain  of 
Bristol.  Mary  Harding  was  the  equal  of  any 
woman  in  the  world,  but  my  father  chose  to 
think  that  I  had  disgraced  him  and  the  family. 
We  had  a  bitter  quarrel,  and  he  disowned  me 
and  cast  me  out.  Being  the  oldest  living  son,  I 
was  then  Lord  Langdon,  but  I  cared  nothing 
for  the  title.  I  came  to  Philadelphia  under  an 
assumed  name,  Nathan,  and  there  you  were 
born  and  my  beloved  wife  died.  Since  then  I 
have  lived  only  for  you,  my  boy,  and  that  you 
might  some  day  come  into  your  inheritance,  I 
preserved  the  papers  relating  to  my  marriage 
and  your  birth.  They  were  in  the  packet  you 
found  under  the  floor  of  my  cabin.  And  from 
the  day  I  left  England  I  neither  saw  nor  heard 
of  my  brother  Gerald  until  we  met  after  the 
battle  of  Monmouth." 


308  IN   THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

Captain  Stanbury  sank  into  a  chair,  covering 
his  face  with  his  hands,  and  for  a  moment  there 
was  deep  silence.  Nathan  neither  moved  nor 
spoke.  It  was  a  strange  story  he  had  just 
heard.  So  Major  Langdon  was  his  father's 
brother — his  own  uncle !  The  mystery  was 
growing  clear,  and  he  shrank  from  what  he  sus- 
pected was  to  come. 

Godfrey  seemed  also  to  understand,  for 
there  was  a  look  of  fixed  horror  on  his 
face. 

"  Dick,"  said  Major  Langdon,  "  it's  my  turn 
now.  I  can't  last  long,  and  I  want  to  con- 
fess—" 

"  No,  no,"  interrupted  Captain  Stanbury. 
"  Let  that  rest,  Gerald.  It  can  do  no  good  to 
tell  it." 

"  But  I  must,"  persisted  the  dying  man,  in  a 
shrill  voice.  "  Do  you  think  I  can  go  to  my 
grave  with  such  a  burden  on  my  soul  ?  I  came 
here  to-night  to  kill  you,  Dick,  and  I  have 
been  justly  punished.  God  knows  I  am  re- 
pentant— " 


THE    CURTAIN    FALLS  309 

"  I  believe  you  are,  Gerald." 

"  Thank  you,  Dick.  Now  let  me  speak  while 
I  can — let  me  tell  it  all.  I  recognized  my 
nephew  in  Philadelphia,  and  you  I  discovered 
on  the  field  of  Monmouth.  I  heard  you  speak 
of  the  papers,  and  it  was  then  I  first  conceived 
this  awful  crime.  I  wanted  the  title  and  estates 
— I  wanted  to  be  Earl  of  Ravenswood,  Dick, 
and  you  and  your  son  stood  in  the  way.  But  I 
hated  you  both  because  you  were  rebels,  else  I 
could  hardly  have  gone  so  far.  I  had  you  car- 
ried off  the  field,  and  I  told  the  Hessians  to 
kill  you—" 

"  I  suspected  that,  Gerald.  I  saw  and  recog- 
nized you  when  you  rode  by  me  to  the  rear. 
But  I  was  too  weak  to  speak." 

"  And  do  you  know  what  I  did  next,  Dick  ? 
Do  you  know  that  I  sent  a  band  of  ruffians  to 
steal  the  papers — that  I  paid  Simon  Glass  to 
kill  your  boy — my  own  nephew  ?" 

"Yes,  I  know  that,  too.  I  heard  it  from 
Nathan,  who  was  mercifully  saved  from  death." 

"  And  can  you  forgive  me,  Dick  ?     I  have  no 


310  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

right  to  ask  it,  but  I  am  truly  repentant.  You 
won't  refuse  a  dying  man  ?" 

Captain  Stanbury  leaned  over  and  took  his 
brother's  hand. 

"  Gerald,  I  do  forgive  you,"  he  said.  "  I 
have  no  right  to  be  a  judge,  and  you  are  paying 
the  last  penalty  of  your  sins." 

A  look  that  was  almost  peaceful  came  into 
Major  Langdon's  eyes.  He  gasped  for  breath, 
and  feebly  raised  his  head  higher. 

"  I  shall  die  happier  now,"  he  said,  "  as 
happy  as  any  man  in  my  circumstances  can. 
But  what  are  you  doing  here,  Spencer  ?  I  can't 
understand  it." 

In  a  few  words  Godfrey  explained,  and  the 
Major  smiled  faintly.  "You  did  right,  my 
lad,"  he  whispered.  "  I  am  glad  that  Glass  is 
dead,  and  that  he  failed  in  his  purpose.  What 
a  wretch  I  have  been !  I  sent  you  along, 
Spencer,  so  that  Glass  would  know  my  nephew 
from  his  resemblance  to  you.  It  is  a  strange 
likeness,  and  I  have  often  wondered  at  it." 

He  was  silent  for  a  moment,  struggling  with 


THE   CURTAIN    FALLS  311 

pain  and  weakness.  When  Godfrey  poured 
some  brandy  between  his  teeth  his  face  flushed 
and  he  gained  fresh  strength. 

"  Dick,""  he  whispered,  turning  to  his  brother, 
"  you  will  go  home  now,  won't  you  ?  I  received 
a  brief  letter  a  month  ago  informing  me  of 
father's  death.  So  you  are  the  Earl  of  Ravens- 
wood,  and  your  son  is  Lord  Langdon." 

"  I  want  neither  the  title  nor  the  estates,"  ex- 
claimed Captain  Stanbury,  almost  fiercely.  "  I 
am  a  true  American,  Gerald,  and  after  what  I 
have  seen  of  this  bitter  war  I  wish  no  more  to 
do  with  England.  And  yet,  for  my  son's  sake — " 

"  I,  too,  am  a  true  American,  father,"  inter- 
rupted Nathan,  his  eyes  flashing  with  excite- 
ment. "  Do  you  think  I  would  go  and  live  in 
England? — that  I  would  take  title  or  fortune 
from  King  George,  our  bitterest  foe?  Never, 
father,  never !  My  blood  boils  when  I  think 
of  Wyoming !  Let  us  stay  here  and  fight  for 
our  rights,  like  true  patriots.  I  am  glad  those 
papers  are  lost,  and  I  hope  they  will  never  be 
found." 


312  IN    THE    DAYS   OF    WASHINGTON 

"  Nobly  said,  my  boy  !"  cried  Captain  Stan- 
bury,  in  a  voice  that  shook  with  emotion.  "  I 
would  not  have  had  you  choose  otherwise — " 

At  that  instant  a  commotion  arose  outside — 
loud  voices  mingled  with  the  neighing  and 
clatter  of  horses.  The  front  door  opened,  and  a 
strangely  familiar  sound  brought  the  hot  blood 
to  Nathan's  cheeks.  Then  footsteps  crossed  the 
hall,  and  into  the  room  strode  Barnabas  Otter. 

The  scene  that  followed  can  be  better  imag- 
ined than  told.  With  a  grin  of  pleasure  Bar- 
nabas shook  hands  with  his  friends,  thereby 
convincing  them  that  he  was  not  a  ghost.  Na- 
than was  half-laughing,  half-crying,  as  he  em- 
braced the  old  man,  and  looked  almost  incredu- 
lously into  his  rugged  face.  Major  Langdon 
watched  the  scene  curiously ;  his  glazing  eyes 
and  leaden  hue  told  that  the  end  was  very 
near. 

"  It's  me,  sure  enough,"  cried  Barnabas,  when 
the  first  greetings  were  over.  "  Here's  your 
papers,  Captain,"  producing  the  packet  from 
his  boot.  Captain  Stanbury  shrugged  his  shoul- 


THE   CURTAIN    FALLS  313 

ders  as  he  took  them,  and  Nathan  did  not  try 
to  hide  his  disappointment. 

"  So  they  aren't  any  account  after  all,  lad," 
said  Barnabas,  in  a  sympathetic  tone.  "  It's 
hard  luck !  You  see  I've  been  made  acquainted 
with  the  whole  story." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  asked  Nathan. 

"  You'll  know  soon,"  Barnabas  replied. 
"  Wait  till  I  tell  you  how  I  escaped  death — it's 
not  a  long  yarn.  You  may  remember  that  the 
Carson  House  stands  on  the  Susquehanna  half  a 
mile  below  the  Kittochtinny  Falls.  It  seems 
that  after  Braddock's  defeat  the  family  dug  a 
secret  passage  from  the  cellar  of  the  house  to 
the  river,  so's  they  might  escape  by  water  in 
case  of  an  Indian  attack.  Well,  Glass  an'  I 
were  sucked  under  the  bushes  into  the  secret 
mouth  of  that  passage.  We  were  both  uncon- 
scious at  the  time,  an'  when  I  come  to  after  a 
bit  I  didn't  know  where  I  was.  I  hollered  three 
or  four  times,  an'  down  come  Carson  an'  his  son 
with  lanterns.  Simon  Glass  was  stone  dead,  an' 
I  reckon  they  buried  him  the  next  day.  I 


314  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    AVASHINGTON 

pushed  right  up  to  Fort  Hunter,  learned  from 
Corporal  Dubbs  where  you  lads  were  gone,  an' 
then  struck  for  Harris's  Ferry.  There  I  run 
across  Noah  Waxpenny — " 

"  So  the  sergeant  didn't  catch  him  ?"  inter- 
rupted Nathan. 

"  No,  lad.  We  came  on  together  to  Phila- 
delphia, and  then  across  the  Jersies  here.  AVax- 
penny  is  out  yonder  now,  wash  in'  off  the  dust  of 
travel.  He's  a  queer  chap,  but — " 

Just  then  Mr.  Waxpenny  himself  entered  the 
room,  looking  as  fresh  and  clean  as  though  he 
had  just  stepped  off  ship. 

"  I  am  informed  that  Major  Gerald  Langdon 
is  here,"  he  said,  rubbing  his  lean  fingers. 
"Also  Captain  Richard  Stanbury  and  his  son. 
I  have  the  honor  to  represent  the  firm  of  Shars- 
wood  &  Feeman,  solicitors,  Lincoln's  Inn,  Lon- 
don. They  sent  me  to  this  country  in  the  in- 
terests of  their  late  estimable  client,  the  Earl  of 
Ravenswood— " 

"  Your  errand  is  already  known,"  the  Major 
interrupted,  faintly.  "  My  minutes  are  num- 


THE    CURTAIN    FALLS  315 

bered,  and  what  you  have  to  tell  no  longer  con- 
cerns me.  But  there  stands  the  new  Earl  of 
Ravenswood,  and  his  son,  Lord  Langdon." 

"  Sir,  these  gentlemen  have  no  claim  to  the 
titles,"  said  Mr.  Waxpenny. 

"  No  claim  ?"  demanded  the  Major.  Nathan 
and  his  father  looked  surprised,  and  Barnabas 
nodded  at  them  meaningly. 

"  I  said  no  claim,"  repeated  Mr.  Waxpenny. 
"The  Earl  had — a  third  and  elder  son,  An- 
thony— " 

"  He  died  years  ago,"  gasped  Major  Langdon. 

"  Exactly,  sir ;  but  he  left  a  wife  and  son  be- 
hind him." 

Having  made  this  announcement  Mr.  Wax- 
penny  paused  a  moment  to  enjoy  its  thrilling 
effect.  "Anthony  Langdon  was  a  wild  and 
dissipated  young  man,"  he  continued.  "Under 
an  assumed  name  he  was  married  in  London  in 
the  year  1759.  In  the  following  year,  after  a 
son  had  been  born  to  him,  he  tired  of  his 
family,  deserted  them,  and  came  home.  A 
week  later  he  was  stabbed  in  a  drunken  brawl 


316  IN   THE    DAYS   OP    WASHINGTON 

in  Nottingham.  Before  he  died  he  confessed 
his  marriage  to  his  father,  who  chose,  for  rea- 
sons that  may  be  understood,  to  keep  the  secret 
locked  in  his  own  bosom." 

Mr.  Waxpenny  stopped  to  stroke  his  chin. 
"  The  deserted  wife,"  he  resumed,  "  was  a  proud 
and  high-spirited  woman.  Feeling  satisfied  that 
her  husband  had  tired  of  her,  she  emigrated  to 
America  with  her  father  and  her  son,  where 
the  Earl  kept  track  of  them  for  a  time.  They 
were  worthy  and  upright  people,  and  the  knowl- 
edge of  this  fact  doubtless  prompted  him  to 
make  confession  and  restitution  on  his  death- 
bed. By  the  terms  of  his  will,  which  was  en- 
trusted to  my  employers,  one-half  of  the  estate 
is  divided  equally  between  his  sons  Gerald  and 
Richard.  The  other  half  goes  to  Anthony's 
son,  who  is  the  rightful  Earl  of  Ravens  wood." 

"  Have  you  found  him  ?"  asked  the  major. 

"  I  regret  to  say  that  I  have  made  no  progress 
as  yet,"  replied  Mr.  Waxpenny.  "  The  lad 
would  now  be  eighteen  years  of  age.  The  name 
of  his  maternal  grandfather  was  Matthew  Mar- 


THE    CURTAIN    FALLS  317 

sham,    and   he  himself  was  called  by  the  as- 
sumed name  of  his  father,  Godfrey  Spencer — " 

Godfrey  sprang  forward,  his  face  as  pale  as 
ashes.  "  Sir,  my  grandfather  was  Matthew 
Marsham,"  he  cried.  "  I  am  Godfrey  Spen- 
cer, and  my  mother  is  still  living." 

Mr.  Waxpenny  tried  hard  to  preserve  his 
legal  dignity,  but  the  effort  was  vain.  "  You 
are  Godfrey  Spencer  ?"  he  exclaimed  excitedly. 
"  Yes,  you  have  the  family  likeness.  And  can 
you  prove  your  claim  ?" 

"  My  mother  has  the  papers,  sir — the  certifi- 
cate of  her  marriage  and  my  birth." 

"Then  you  are  the  Earl  of  Ravenswood," 
declared  Mr.  Waxpenny,  rubbing  his  hands 
with  delight.  "  My  Lord,  I  congratulate  you," 
He  made  the  lad  a  sweeping  and  impressive  bow. 

Godfrey  blushed  with  confusion,  and  looked 
around  him  in  a  dazed  manner.  "  It  seems  like 
a  dream,"  he  said.  "  I  can  hardly  realize  it. 
Major  Langdon  is  my  uncle,  and  so  are  you, 
Captain  Stanbury — " 

"  And  you  and  I  are  cousins,  Godfrey,"  cried 


318  IN    THE    DAYS    OF    WASHINGTON 

Nathan.  "  I  am  glad  to  hear  of  your  good 
fortune,  and  I  don't  envy  you  one  bit.  I  wish 
you  all  happiness  and  prosperity." 

"  Thank  you,  Nathan,"  Godfrey  replied 
huskily,  and  the  lads  affectionately  clasped 

hands. 

#  *  *  *  * 

It  is  now  time  to  drop  the  curtain.  After 
several  hours  of  unconsciousness,  Major  Langdon 
died  peacefully  at  daybreak,  and  was  buried  a  few 
hours  later  in  a  grove  of  oaks  near  the  farmer's 
house.  As  soon  as  the  sad  ceremony  was  over 
the  whole  party  started  for  New  Brunswick, 
under  the  escort  of  the  yoemen. 

From  there  Godfrey  and  Noah  Waxpenny 
pushed  on  to  New  York.  The  lad  was  sick  of  the 
war,  and  a  week  later  he  sailed,  with  his  mother 
and  the  law-clerk,  for  England,  where  he 
speedily  proved  his  claim  to  the  title  and  estate 
of  the  deceased  Earl  of  Havens  wood. 

Captain  Stanbury,  Nathan,  and  Barnabas 
rejoined  Washington's  army,  and  fought  bravely 
until  the  surrender  of  Lord  Cornwallis  at 


THE    CURTAIN    FALLS  319 

Yorktown  ended  the  long  struggle,  and  gave 
the  United  Colonies  their  freedom. 

A  few  months  later  Godfrey  persuaded  his 
uncle  to  accept  half  of  the  late  earl's  estate,  and 
with  a  portion  of  the  money,  Captain  Richard 
Langdon — to  give  him  his  rightful  name — 
bought  a  handsome  property  in  the  suburbs  of 
Philadelphia.  There  he  and  Nathan  lived 
happily  together,  keeping  up  their  old  friend- 
ship with  Cornelius  De  Vries,  and  occasionally 
visited  by  Barnabas  Otter,  who  had  gone  back 
to  his  beloved  Wyoming  Valley  at  the  close  of 
the  war. 

In  after  years,  when  his  father  was  at  rest  on 
the  banks  of  the  Delaware,  Nathan  made  more 
than  one  visit  to  his  ancestral  home  in  England, 
where  he  and  Godfrey  lived  over  again  in  the 
past,  and  the  ties  of  kinship  that  connected  the 
cousins  were  not  more  strong  than  the  memory 
of  the  distant  days  when  they  had  suffered  and 
fought  together  for  the  sake  of  Captain  Stan- 
bury's  mysterious  papers. 

THE    END 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


MAY  141981 


Form  L9-Series  444 


